There are similarities
I notice: that the hills
which the eyes make flat as a wall, welded
together, open as I move
to let me through; become
endless as prairies; that the trees
grow spindly, have their roots
often in swamps; that this is a poor country;
that a cliff is not known
as rough except by hand, and is
therefore inaccessible. Mostly
that travel is not the easy going
 
from point to point, a dotted
line on a map, location
plotted on a square surface
but that I move surrounded by a tangle
of branches, a net of air and alternate
light and dark, at all times;
that there are no destinations
apart from this.
 
 
There are differences
of course: the lack of reliable charts;
more important, the distraction of small details:
your shoe among the brambles under the chair
where it shouldn’t be; lucent
white mushrooms and a paring knife
on the kitchen table; a sentence
crossing my path, sodden as a fallen log
I’m sure I passed yesterday
 
(have I been
walking in circles again?)
 
 
but mostly the danger:
many have been here, but only
some have returned safely.
 
 
A compass is useless; also
trying to take directions
from the movements of the sun,
which are erratic;
and words here are as pointless
as calling in a vacant wilderness.
 
Whatever I do I must
keep my head. I know
it is easier for me to lose my way
forever here, than in other landscapes

J Ann Crowder Kimiko Watson Delilah Parker Jennings CHER' JEAN Alex G Ahmad Muhammad El Jafari Esther Yasmin Groeneveld Alexandra Del Popolo Maria Do Céu Pires Costa Niqqi Gae Dove Maduo IE Compat Rahul Mohamad Singh Kelsi Doscher Matt Holt Leanne Li
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MGR
4 months

Its a great Transcendental poem. This poem reminds me the Sidargal Padals (poetry of Saints) in Tamil literature. Keeping and doing things in order can be occured by meditation. Its a door step poem for transcendental meditation.

Ahmad Muhammad
12 months

A great comparison that expresses what's going on inside each and all. Yeah, I also believe that the inner journey to one's own self is more dangerous than that of the physical one. The way, Atwood Ma'am composed it is amazing & awesome.

Mercedes Dembo
almost 2 years

A journey through our inner natural world, beautiful metaphor for fear.

gopikrishnan
about 2 years

visualization of a disturbed mind in an alien country....

Fran Claggett
about 2 years

How is it possible I have never read this poem before?

Y. J. Hall
Y. J. Hall
6 months

It's possible :)

Robert L. Martin
over 2 years

I have to keep things in order. If I don't, it disturbs me very much. I lose my patience trying to find things. If I'm too lazy to put them in order, I hate myself for it.

christian tanoa
over 2 years

absolutely beautifull

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