Spirits

    
Spirits
    

When, in the past, I've wandered in the woods,

That still remain upon these western lands,

It seemed a lurking, phantom figure watched –

And when I turned, would hide behind a tree.

At times, it seemed to be a wandering child,

Who still was looking for its parents, gone –

At times, an elder, slow to move away,

At times, a furtive woman – or a man.

And were they real – or my imaginings,

The workings of a conscience not yet stilled,

I do not know – but since we're spirits all,

Perhaps I sensed my fellow beings past.

I even found, by chance, beside a stream,

A footprint – shaped like a moccasin's sole, it was.

And feathers, I have found – and shells on strings,

And bits of cloth with patterns faded, worn.

But all of these might be explained away –

But not that sudden prickling of the skin,

That ancient warning from the times when we

Had still such hairs as could enlarge our size.

And in my life, in things more personal,

With those I cherished soon to pass away,

I've felt a warning, strong and clear like fact,

But which I still, from reason, had ignored.

So there are organs, that we still possess,

That sense, like present, future things and past –

And plumb such distances, as senses five,

That we acknowledge, simply couldn't span.

But though we've parts connected to the whole,

Those parts are not possessed of human speech.

Like mutes, they warn by gesture and by touch,

But disappear, like phantoms, when we turn.

But surely, we can hear without our ears,

Be sensitive to subtle messages –

And those so clearly strong, which logic says

Cannot be right – and yet so often are.

In Iceland, people still believe in elves.

Perhaps we too should hark to spirit folk,

For what they whisper, fading in and out,

If each would hear, we all might profit much. 

2013 December 27^th, Fri.

Bensonhurst, Brooklyn

 

Strange Encounter -- II

              
Strange Encounter -- II
             
I met my mates the other night, down at the local pub,
It was our weekly gathering, it was our social hub.
My wife had told me earlier, "Do not carouse till late!
I want you home tonight, my dear, to eat with mom, at eight!"

But I had had a bit too much, of public house's ale,
And did my pals, with stories loud and boisterous, regale.
And when I realized, alas, that I was running late,
I took a short cut (so I thought) as it was well past eight.

And as I wandered homeward, why, I seemed to turn about,
And all was turning, as I turned, and I began to shout.
But sadly, no one answered -- and so, I silent fell.
And all around was silence -- and dark as bloody hell.

I felt, of sudden weary, and leaned upon a tree.
And shut my eyes for just a bit, to be, of tiredness, free...
And when I opened eyes again, I felt so much refreshed,
I set off striding jauntily, by my own self impressed...

But then, as I was striding, I looked around and saw
An unfamiliar setting that filled me with some awe.
It was a sylvan wilderness -- with starlight it was lighted.
It was a little frightening -- and yet I felt delighted.

For this, I sensed, was where I'd been, a long long time ago,
And this, I knew, was where they were, the ones who were no more,
The fairies and the pixies and the goblins and the trolls
And all the little beings who had played their little roles.

In the middle of that forest, where the fairies gather 'round,
I heard a soft and eerie, yet a joyful kind of sound.
It was midnight, it was moonless -- and through the silent dark,
I heard that gentle throbbing -- and to its sound did hark.

And on glimpsing, in the distance, a strange and ghostly glow,
I hurried, heart pulsating, determined, then, to know
From where and why this throbbing, from where and why this light,
That gave me trepidation -- and filled me with delight.

And then I saw a clearing -- and through it shone a star
That hypnotized me, briefly, with twinkling light afar.
And when I shut and opened -- my eyes, by star enthralled,
I saw the small ones dancing, as other wee ones called.

Oh surely they were graceful, oh surely they trod light,
But they were more than graceful, they were a wondrous sight.
I saw then, lanterns glowing, as summer glow-worms glow.
And other lights were moving, in midnight firefly show.

I heard the sound grow louder and then appear to fade,
Until I heard but silence -- and felt again afraid.
But then, like chorus rising, I heard the calls begin
And knew that they were gentle, untouched by worldly sin.

It was the sound of water, it was the sound of breeze,
It was a gentle murmur that set my heart at ease.
I floated on that rising, I drifted on that ebb,
To sound I did surrender, ensnared in woven web.

How long that seance lasted, I really do not know.
I woke at dawn's arrival, as east began to glow.
And then, I wandered homeward, to scolding from my spouse,
Who thought, perhaps, her chosen was just a drunken louse.

What matter? I just kissed her -- and roundly, on both cheeks,
And bounded past to mattress, the one that loudly squeaks.
And there I fell like timber, to dream again in wonder,
To see again that dancing in that uncertain yonder...

Babui / Arjun
2011 November 18th, Friday, 9:30 pm
Brooklyn