Disappeared

Disappeared

When you left our house that night and went falling

into that ocean, a message came: silence.

I pictured you going, spangles and bubbles

leaving your pockets in a wheel clockwise.

Sometimes I look out of our door at night.

                When you send messages they come spinning

                back into sound with just leaves rustling.

Come battering.  I listen, am the same, waiting.

                                                                                William Stafford

                                                                                Elegy

Right there in the middle

and toward the end if the dis-

tance is added, the clear

as knelling word works

its way up to the surface

and like anything quiet,

unassuming, stationary

in its waiting to be seen

is the word ear.  Flank it

on both ends and it becomes

                a fruit coming undone,

                                slipping out of its skin

                                                quite naturally, without

                                                                honed help or needing

                                                                                it.  Listen to the way

                                                                                                it sits on a brick

                                                                                                                wall all alone

                                                                                                                                in itself

looking out into the mountains

                fresh spring maples—like

                                a straw hat left behind by

                                                a visitor and its quiet

                                                                in the way straw

                                                                                or cane or grass

                                                                                               for that matter is quiet

                                                                                                                until it is asked

                                                                                                                                to bear the breadth

                                                                                                                                                of a head too big

for it, or the set down heavy

                hips just in with the rest

                                of its body and it

                                                allows the whole

                                                                weight of it

                                                                                bones and muscle

                                                                                                above and below

                                                                                                                to let go, only

                                                                                                                                off balance it crashes

                                                                                                                                                through.  And listen

the stretch of cane,

                the reed or the rush

                                or the sea grass

                                                sashaying and yes the sprung

                                                               up breeze, then creaking

                                                                                then unwinding

                                                                                                strand after strand

                                                                                                                it can’t bear it

                                                                                                                                any longer

                                                                                                                                                and it gives

the way a rubbed and rubbed

                and rubbed rope will give

                                eventually, though

                                                the chafing is done

                                                                in all kinds of all

                                                                                throughout the

                                                                                                day work and rain

                                                                                                                or night moon

                                                                                                                                and rain sailing

                                                                                                                                                out or moored

and the waves push and pull

                and the heat asks can I

                                and the tension finally

                                                says yes, and later

                                                                after it snaps

                                                                                most people will say

                                                                                                they never heard

                                                                                                                a thing, that the day

                                                                                                                                was a fine, fine day,

                                                                                                                                                everything was fine.

And maybe they think they were,

                the ones they were supposed

                                to be

                                                watching, the ones

                                                                who disappeared.  Maybe

                                                                                they were.  But listen. . .

                                                                                                Oh, yes, but how can you?

                                                                                                                What you needed to

                                                                                                                                hear before it went

                                                                                                                                                (and it’s not

your fault, don’t blame

                yourself) has disappeared

                                double stepping on its own

                                                game of making letters

                                                                come up from behind to spell

                                                                                something else: r-e-d, a-r-e,

                                                                                                and if you’re listening closely

                                                                                                                and go with it, leap to d-

                                                                                                                                e-a-d.  It’s right there. 

Hear it?

at Naulakha