Some possible exciting news is on the horizon, we will wait and see!
one day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces
of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,
you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language
to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies
and granite and bone. They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear
your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they–like you–must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.
-The Return by Geneen Marie Haugen
“Self consciousness is the curse of the city and all that sophistication implies. It is the Glimpse of oneself in a storefront window, the unbidden awareness of reactions on the faces of other people–the novelist’s world not the poets. I have lived there. I remember what the city has to offer: Human companionship, major league Baseball, and a clatter of quickening stimulus like the rush from strong drugs that leaves you drained. I remember how you bide your time in the city, and think, “Next year….I’ll start living:next year…I’ll start my life.” Innocence is a better world. Innocence sees that this is it, and finds it world enough”