"That Which Lays Before" R. Cahais

That Which Lays Before

R. Cahais
[rick@cahais-languages.de]

The view from top of the hill,
was as it always was.
The wind, the sea, the grass,
twas as it should always be.
A feeling, an emotion,
felt and seen.
As it twas when last he came,
this place with no name.
The daisies standing tall and proud,
elegant, yet delicate.

He has been here oft,
This place of his.
He comes again to think,
and dream, and heal.
The sand upon the wind,
cleanses, caresses,
It tugs around his mind.
It cleanses soul and mind.
The pain doth wane.

Before him lies the sea
Behind him the town,
distant, remote.
To his left lay hills
like the one on which he stands.
To his right lay more.
To his right,
they are other, foreign.
their gentle risings disturbed,
by rocks, clefts, and barren earth.
Disturbed, perturbed.

His long unbound hair,
blown, fluttering wildly.
It whips his face gently,
teasing his skin, dark and bearded.
Mostly, though, his hair flies with the wind,
wanting to be free, stretching and straining,
behind him where he cannot see.
His wind scarred face stares,
with slitted eyes, vacant and dark,
upon the sea before him,
old, and bold.

He looks around in each direction.
His soul lies to the right,
his desires to the left,
his body in front
his mind, unshakably
lies behind him,
distant and remote.
Not far enough for comfort.
For it is this connection,
which has brought him here,
connected, somehow infected.

He steps forward,
upon this grassy knoll,
the grass beneath his feet,
soft, and sweet,
his vision filled with seascape.
There lies his escape
from that which lays behind,
to that which lies before.
He glances down
upon the ground he has trodden,
green but not serene.

Poem © 2001 Richard P. Cahais, all rights reserved
appears here by permission

Author Notes

We all have a place where we go to think, to reflect, make decisions and take action. Some of them physical, some exist only in our minds. The results are, however, the same; the familiar, the past, the comparable, that and those around us, and that step forward into uncertainty. This poem was written while visiting just such a place.

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