Treatment
Quicken
the sun's rise
and the moon's fall
with medicine,
so the scorched
cedes
to the resurrection
and the earth
erodes
to the precious
under clean skies,
without noise
and color,
as tomorrow
is pure
and the past
is a photo
with bruised edges
and scratches of regret,
lost in our mind,
until neurons
polish it
to a Seurat,
but the pills
leading back
have long been digested.
-Robert L. Jackson
This poem is the synthesis of two sources. First, my body has been battling itself in illness, and I just want time to pass until I am well (hopefully). However, am I then not relishing these moments in time as they should be. The second source is the motif of "nostalgia" posted by the Poets United blog (http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/search/label/Midweek%20Motif). They seemed to fit together into this poem.
"The past
ReplyDeleteis a photo
with bruised edges
and scratches of regret." ~ Beautiful and poignant.
Get well soon.
"but the pills
ReplyDeleteleading back
have long been digested"
Wishing you comfort and healing.
A Blessed Wednesday to you
Much love...
May today's illness once be part of the bruised edges! I loved your words (and send healing thoughts).
ReplyDeleteBeautifully deep and poignant. Feel better soon ❤️
ReplyDeleteI am amazed you can write so beautifully while being ill. May you recover your health very soon.
ReplyDeleteHope you are restored to good health soon. "Scratches of regret" Nice phrase.
ReplyDeletewe all have plenty of those.
I like "the past is a photograph with bruised edges" very much - has the battered feel of an old black and white photo that has been saved for decades.........I own some! I wish you healing and recovery from your illness. I find illness gives one a gift of time - present time - that our usual busy schedules dont allow.
ReplyDeleteGet well soon! And meanwhile enjoy the opportunity for some quiet nostalgia.
ReplyDeleteYou have captured the journey to wellness well. Not easy, but I do pray that the pills do their work......Prayers.
ReplyDeleteDeep. I agree that we polish the past as we look back at it,, memories are always more beautiful than the real thing ever was,
ReplyDelete"lost in our mind,
ReplyDeleteuntil neurons
polish it
to a Seurat,"....each dot of memory, with color or without does make a pattern, thanks to the work of neurons and Time...a beautiful poem on nostalgia...wish you healing, get well soon....
Amazing. I can see the Seurat effect. May we all have the preciousness and the resurrection before the fade sets in.
ReplyDeleteThis was a poem full of pain, and yet you managed to rise up from that suffering into something that transcended the weak flesh and aspired to the robust spiritual and emotional sphere. Wonderful poem!
ReplyDelete