It was about two to three years ago that I had taken a break from work and spent most of my days at home, at Church or in a cafe. Often, it was in the afternoons that I would take a walk to Church, to sit in the chapel for an hour or so to pray. Then, I would head to the nearby coffee shop to reflect, think, read and write. When evening comes, I would take a walk home. On some evenings it would rain. Those evenings were my favorite. I would walk slowly, observing the silence of the homes along the way, look at the fallen flowers soaking wet in the ground. I would soak in the scenery. It is these walks that I returned to when I wrote this poem.
On the other hand, ever since I became completely obsessed in poetry, I found that movement brought out words in me. Walking alone, in silence, without a definite destination, only watching the world as it comes to view has brought in me words. In a strange way, the walking frees my mind and unlocks the doors that kept the words away. It is this relationship I have with words that surfaces in this poem.
Today’s poem was written a few months ago. I posted it somewhere else as merely prose, but revisited it and edited it to somehow make it Prose-Poetry. I hope you enjoy this little poem. Thanks to Jama @ Jama’s Alphabet Soup for hosting today’s Poetry Friday.
I walk beneath the evening sky without a destination. I let my legs take me as my mind wander in the forest of words. In each step, I find a lump in my throat, as the familiar sound of a word being born echoes through my mind. Each word, drawn out from the shadows, coming into the light and forming tiny dots and lines. Each dot and line draw out a map of you, at times as distinct from myself as your physical body. On other times, entwined in the shapes of my own soul. As my legs walk further into the damp evening roads, so does my mind filling in every crevice with you–in the rain-laden leaves, in the starless skies, in the cracks on the pavement, even in the obtuse angles of my own yearning. My mind, now full, with words that roll off my quiet tongue like syrup finds itself grasping a spineless illusion. My legs stop. It stops in the darkness as rain soaks through every inch of my still body. In familiar sadness, my body freezes knowing without paper or pen these words will disappear into the night and once again, the oppressive loneliness takes over. For you are nothing more than the words that fill my mind in these evening walks.
Have a lovely Friday everyone!