Nowhere to Fly

Nowhere to Fly

 

Last Days in New York

 

The evening air is cold tonight;

A frost lies on the grass,

 

A gibbous moon

Peeps on the path,

As my slow footsteps pass

 

A true farewell is kept within,

As leaving is a mix of wounded words

And broken bonds arriving cannot fix

 

A dog is barking in the woods;

The stars are small and gray,

And though they shine,

They seem to shrink,

 

And would no longer stay.[1]

 

A thrush is clinging to a reed;

She has nowhere to fly,

And I am turning

From her gaze -

 

I cannot say goodbye.

---

[1] To Paris, love had value only if it is eternal. And from what he could tell, everything in the physical world, including love, has a beginning and an end. Thus, the poet came to reject the idea that God is ascendant in the material realm, concluding that if there is a supernatural being in charge of earthly affairs, he is none too nice. Indeed, such a being guarantees a life of constant heartbreak. To Paris, the observable realities of the physical world suggest the predominance of demiurgic forces more than they do random occurrences or a kindly love god.

 

 

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

This is exquisite! The font presents a delicacy to your words that make them even more impactful, even more beautiful. Your last verse took my breath away...

"the thrush is clinging to a reed,
she has nowhere to fly,
and I am turning from her gaze -
I cannot say goodbye."

And I will say hello, Paris...so wonderful to meet you!

[Chris Shaw]

Really taken by this beautiful piece of writing. The imagery is breathtaking, the format and flow work perfectly for the poem but most of all the final line left a lump in this reader’s throat. Excellent work Paris.

Chris