(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
This was the first draft of an experimental stream-of-consciousness poem. So, don’t work too hard at making sense of the metaphors, unless you’re a therapist and really relish such puzzles!
The Occasion
I wrote this poem the morning after an encouraging, highlight-of-the-year conversation with Darol, my mountain-climbing buddy of many decades, and after thinking about how young George Herbert was when he wrote his short poem “Hope.”
The Mood
There is definitely some melancholy in recognizing that the myriad prospects of youth have dwindled down with the passing of years. But there is also a growing recognition that the number of prospects is far less important than the quality and reasonableness of prospects. If you know me well, you know what comes next: some lines from Robert Browning’s “Rabbi Ben Ezra” ….
What I aspired to be,
And was not, comforts me:
A brute I might have been, but would not sink i’ the scale.
Another Guide
A few years ago, when I was already in my 60s, I wrote a poem and commentary that serve as the antidote to this melancholy. In that post, I suggest that even in old age, we can be “full of promise,” and we’re “never too old to grow.” But mere inertia, mere sliding, is an inadequate guide for this precious autumn of life.
Understand a Little Better?
When I explain my poems to family and friends in person, I can see when the lights of understanding go on. But writing, I never know. That’s why I often ask for feedback. Did my commentary open any windows into this poem?