Returns
What good is a rock
if the people fall, if truth
remains but no one
hears the long grass
rattle, and words
burst into flame
and gas, and life
poisons itself with
greed and the deficit
of compassion.
No body exists to bury.
I am trying to return
to a place of open
mouths, of nests and
groves left standing
despite their value
to the market. Which
pocket do I empty,
what song do I leave
unsung. Tomorrow
always becomes
yesterday, and today
flakes away into chilled
ash, carried over
rooftops and clouds,
never to be seen again.
“Returns” first appeared here in September 2017.
O at the Edges 
This poem couldn’t be more perfectly matched with THIS Easter! Wow! 🐣
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Thank you, Ma’am! THIS Easter has certainly been different…
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I love**** the phrase ‘tomorrow always becomes yesterday’.
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Thanks, Jeni. An inevitable truth.
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Only, in 2017, were you prescient enough to post a gargoyle from Notre Dame? Because that will freak me out.
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It seemed appropriate at the time. Little did I know…
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Wow. I have plans of returning there some day, and seeing even the smallest remnant of what could be salvaged. Which also applies to my own town at this point! :-\
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That could apply to me, at this point!
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Re: ” today / flakes away into chilled / ash, carried over / rooftops and clouds, / never to be seen again.” … I suspect it’s the limits of human perception that inhibit “seeing” now how yesterday influences now and tomorrow and beyond.
I find truth (sure seems to me!) and inspiration in “No body exists to be buried.” I don’t exactly know what I’m meant to be doing right now, but I trust I’m one of life’s players up to and including my final act of dying.
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I often wonder about the paths not taken, but I like where I am today. As for tomorrow, it’ll soon be yesterday.
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Wow. Beautiful poem. The form and the message is wonderful. I always visits your blog you inspires.
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Thanks very much, Herbert. Much appreciated.
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Relative to the Okaji style, I find the imagery in this one more message-driven – for better or for worse – until the last full clause (“today / flakes …”), which puts us back into that signature zone where Okaji gives us imagery rich in meaning but without giving us a fixed meaning. He forces us to engage. You do well to place this piece at the end. Oh yeah, I forgot to say, “imho” 😊
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I don’t recall the circumstances surrounding the poem’s genesis, but from the timing I’d guess the opening days of the Trump administration had something to do with it, hence the more message-driven tone. Your opinion is always savored, Gary. Thank you.
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