We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

31.3.18

Making a Pilgrimage


For the (fictional) series "Edges"
His Voice 



Making a Pilgrimage

When I would rendezvous with her,
it was island, oasis, outside of time,
between the worlds. We were complete
in each other, free with each other,
uninhibited as creatures of fur or feathers,
wild and playful – and happy, happy!

How much further now, to that place
deep in the forest, that place where the trees 
merged, closing out the hostile world? 
It seemed to be all turning hostile then.
I was seventeen, and beginning to burn
with passions both political and personal.

On the verge of owning the world (we believed)
and planning to remake it closer to perfect,
in fact we retreated from it, to each other
and to our sanctuary. We raised a cairn of stones
back from the surge of the tide, hidden
from beach or path.... I know it must be near.

18 comments:

  1. I can feel the free spirits of the youthful adventurers. This is a very cool series, Rosemary.

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  2. Such a captivating tale, my friend. I most love the cairn at the edge of the sea, and his pilgrimage back to bygone days.

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  3. Enjoyed this picture of what it is like to be THAT age & happy and free and adventurous, knowing that most of life was ahead & ready to find one's own way!

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  4. Aah the nostalgia.. the old burn and those days of youth!!!!

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  5. I can remember being like this with one of my oldest friends who, by chance, sent me a beautiful card this week and reminded me of that. I love the lines:
    '...We were complete
    in each other, free with each other,
    uninhibited as creatures of fur or feathers,
    wild and playful – and happy, happy!'

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  6. Oh to be seventeen again!💞 I resonate with "beginning to burn
    with passions both political and personal"... beautifully evocative write, Rosemary 😊

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  7. Oh what a beautiful heartfelt poem this is Rosemary. What a feeling it was back then when anything and everything was possible.

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  8. Such an enigmatic story - I loved it

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  9. Seventeen is an age prone to idealism, though young love can often eclipse everything else going on in the world around us.

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  10. AH, it's so beautiful to reflect on those times when one's spirit soared despite of all the odds — to find a sanctuary of comfort together makes me smile. That first stanza sets the tone and mood so well.
    Also, I loved this bit: "How much further now, to that place/deep in the forest, that place where the trees/merged, closing out the hostile world?" Creates the same comforting sense.
    -HA

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  11. such ideals and a beautiful intimate mirrored world -
    "We raised a cairn of stones
    back from the surge of the tide, hidden
    from beach or path.... I know it must be near."

    methinks it is on another shore though

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  12. it is this sense of curiosity and idealism that make youth so unique.
    i can hardly wait to read the next instalment. :)

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  13. I think when I was seventeen I was too insecure and scared to go with friends like this... it came later, but it's wonderful to have those treasured places... I would like to find the cairns of my past.

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  14. This is such a good story! Love the way you bring in both a sense of anticipation and reverie.

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  15. Ah... that age! When all seems possible and ideal. I enjoyed this!

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  16. A lovely expression of that time of being: 'On the verge of owning the world'. You have sketched and colored this scene so beautifully with exquisite images and word weaving. Another awesome installment in a fascinating series.

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  17. What a wonderful poem. I hope you are still full of the optimism of that time and the hope, the wandering free. I know I am! I love this series

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  18. I was a late bloomer. At 17 the world was a scary place for me. It still is. A big pat on the back from me to me for still being around:)

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