“A person can only be born in one place. However, he may die several times elsewhere: in the exiles and prisons, and in a homeland transformed by the occupation and oppression into a nightmare.” - Mahmoud Darwish
Leaving one’s place of birth and settling elsewhere, for whatever purpose, may often be followed by success, with one’s new life being comfortable, prosperous and filled with content. While one is grateful for the new homeland’s bounty, the need to visit one’s place of origin is a thirst that can only satisfied by a return there. However, nostalgia is a bad advisor and often what we fondly remember is forever lost and the water of return is contaminated by the bitterness of irrevocable change.
Poetry Jam this week is looking at the theme of “thirst” and my offering is below:
The Return
My heart searches to slake its thirst
In heady wine of the return, so ruby-red.
Vermillion poppies are sweet draughts
In emerald chalice of unripened corn.
My heart searches to revive itself
With life-giving blood and sacred breath.
Anemones like drops of blood on hillsides
And in the azure of sky a breath of God.
My heart searches for a cordial word to hear,
A smiling friendly face to warm itself.
In every boat of the Aegean I see a letter spelling “welcome home”
While ancient statues smile at me like next of kin.
My heart searches far and wide for honey, balsam,
A therapy for all its wounds so that it will love again.
Violet-coloured, scented evenings in islands white,
And sweet fragrances are medicine enough in balmy nights.
My heart searches for all of these and more,
But as time inexorably flows, it passes, wounds, destroys.
Time conquers all that I knew and fondly recalled,
And my return is poison, soured wine and bitter gall.
The photo is "Poppies in Polyhrono, Greece" by Ilian Pavlov
SUNDAY BEST #406 - A MOMENT OF REST
10 hours ago
So eloquent & profound, Nick. I especially like the third stanza.
ReplyDeletei think on some level we all search for the return...be it to home or to some place or time...and all too often we do not make that journey for some reason or another...
ReplyDeleteI admire the cadence of your verses ~ The last stanza is a contrast to earlier words: And my return is poison, soured wine and bitter gall. Really well done ~
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done Nicholas. And a gorgeous photo to boot.
ReplyDeleteI am not sure whether you meant to speak for Ulysses, yourself or both but I like the imagery you used and what you portrayed of Greece as well as the poignant realization at the end of your poem.
ReplyDeleteI journeyed through your poem, on the first reading, thecreturn was sadness, as i read and read, used the image of gall and came up with a thought of crucifixion and redemption
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog
Much love...
This is very thought-provoking, Nick. The first four stanzas have an optimistic outlook, but in the final stanza all is turned around.
ReplyDeleteOh...cultural blenders do not fit anywhere. Everywhere and nowhere is home. At least the statues smile at you:)
ReplyDeleteA bit of a disillusioned and sad Nick. It is the winter blues. Seven weeks until the Spring and all will be well.
i find shattering of dream here...so the thirst remains...love the exquisite imagery used here...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, colour and pure magic this is a tapestry of wonder and life
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem. Our memories and nostalgic thoughts are so different from reality that hits hard sometimes...
ReplyDeleteShattered dreams never sounded so well...
ReplyDeleteIt is a difficult thing to return and find it is not the welcome that you expected. The depth of that disappointment is deeply felt in your words. Excellent!
ReplyDeleteI loved the whole poem, but I found the last stanza especially striking. I know the feeling you describe perfectly well, because I've lived away for several years and that constant thirst for my homeland is simply impossible to quench... Lovely and wonderful!
ReplyDeleteSuch a lovely picture of poppies, and my, such powerful words.
ReplyDeleteYours is another blog I visited earlier this week but the Internet seems to have chewed up my comments. It is ironic, given that this is social media.
Back to the poem, I found these verses most profound:
" My heart searches for all of these and more,
But as time inexorably flows, it passes, wounds, destroys.
Time conquers all that I knew and fondly recalled,
And my return is poison, soured wine and bitter gall...."
I feel the heartbreak shattering the Internet. Powerful words. I am a fan.