poem: The Appointed Path

Every day should have its chance

      to be so sure of itself,

   smug in its forbidden knowledge

   of paths winding on mountaintops

through stone-sculpted ways

     under skies as crisp as folded linens

in the best hotels,

   and within the loneliness of landscapes

so stark they make us remember

    why we started the journey

in the first place- comes simply a day;

    a day steeped in the flavors

of lamb stew, with rice; even a day

     without an embrace,

         when we did not kiss

under watchful stares of beekeepers

     and bus drivers.

 

The fact of you-

   the solidity of your breathing

   in cramped public quarters,

 the ephemera of a leg brushed in affection

  by fingertips communicating without words,

    the glint of calcite crystals in rough palms

           and a dinner quietly shared,

     few words necessary, as

   spirits held hands in the closeness

that comes from entering

   sacred space together, even

     knowing, this both is, and is not

the appointed path, and that is

     exactly how it is meant to be.

Author's Note

picture is from my own photos of a journey in 2006

this work was also translated into Spanish:

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/zorra_encantada/1135340/

Reviews

[papaed]

Wonderful sentiment, beautifully expressed, Marie. I have someone (for 41 years) that makes me feel it is as it is meant to be. Peace and harmony balanced with creative individual expression and spiritual sharing prevailing. Thank you for sharing. I came with Larry Dyson's recommendation, I have over one hundred pieces on this site as well.

[Marie Anzalone]

I remember you well, papaed... we used to correspond way back when. Yes, you grasped immediately the significance of this piece, all right. Will be around soon to check out soem more of your writes. Thank you for the words, and the time they took.

[luciddreamer]

This is absolutely beautiful...

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, lucid, for sharing your thoughts on this with me.

[TL Boehm]

this is lovely Marie. I'm so glad Larry shared it on FB.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much for taking the time to read and review, T.L.! Much appreciated, and so very glad you enjoyed it.

[Larry Dyson]

I still love this prose ...remember this ?....you should....Laury

[Marie Anzalone]

thank you so much for reviewing this again.. and for promoting it. I remember this day like it is carved into the back of my hand, a trip across a mountaintop with someone I love, holding each other's sacred space. Beautiful day.

[Tree]

Your tone your voice carries with it the wisdom of a woman who understands the meaning of a moment. And here you bring that moment to us not crystalized, but fluid. Not distant, but so close that the reader can almost hear the person breathing. Feel the warmth of another person's soul. That is not an easy feat for a writer. It cannot be artificially constructed. It must be experienced. An ethereal, moving piece Raquelita.

[Marie Anzalone]

Because moments, even in memory, are seldom crystalized... they ARE fluid and malleable. And yes, we can walk down the paths of all our appointed days, and still, only at the end of life, will we really know what moments were the best, the most beautiful, the most life-filled. Only at the end will we know the power of a touch on the leg at 10,000', or the way someone's words form 3000 miles away changed your worldview; or the way you wished you had spent just a few more minutes tasting a sunset, had found the time and moeny to go see her, had not turned down the offer while you still had it extended, etc. As I settle into myself more fully, as you say, I am reclaiming an ability to live in and cherish moments, a gift, I think, learned from living in Central America. There is magic in being open to exactly where you are, what you see, at any given moment. I am trying to get that back, and part of that is being able to describe it later in words. So, my dear friend, thank you for noticing.

[mikl paul]

' when we did not kiss

under watchful stares of beekeepers

and bus drivers. ' this part was wonderful.

[Marie Anzalone]

thank you, mikl... your words are appreciated

[lee von cleef]

in touch, a true center, a craft ,a art, a picture built by you,for all to hold ,yes the day is full of smiles .

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks, lee. Yes, indeed, that touch... and then gone so quickly you wonder if it was there at all... when the breathing becomes the far more relaible thing in the room, I guess... that's when you know

[Ken Simm.]

We write of knowing someone. We write of love and we write of our feelings but few write so well about all these and manage to bring a new view of the path appointed by fate. Even though that may change from day to day.

[Marie Anzalone]

I wonder sometimes, Ken, if, "fate" really is just a word for saying that someone stopped long anough to listen to the advice their intuition had been telling them all along? There is so much we cannot explain, and the more we learn, the more we find that is true.

[Larry Dyson]

love..."spirits held hands in the closeness

that comes from entering

sacred space together"

add that to my last prose piece.".Words."

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, eclipsing, and I think you know exactly what is emant by that line, too.

[Larry Dyson]

you bet..what an experience it must have been.

[Marie Anzalone]

it always is...