Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Mag 132 — a view with a room

If I go out with day breaking through blinds
or in the dark of night, with perhaps
some candle light flickering as puppeteer,
will I know the room that hosts my last hours —
Will it be a familiar room dressed by
loving hands, mine or others, to remind me
that my feet knew where to step to avoid,
or to make sing, the creak near the door —
That my hands placed this and that
there and there — That my voice called
from the window when the cat was too near
a sparrow — That my body was later warmed
by the nearness of the cat, and then later
heated by the embrace of my man —
That my mind was calmed while reading
by the fire after unsettling moments spent
worrying that I may not in the end know a room.

Written for The Mag: Mag 132 that inspired with the above photo prompt
(Big Room, 1948, by Andrew Wyeth).



Fireblossom said...

I like how you used the cat as a fulcrum that takes the poem outside and then back in again.

izzy said...

I like this over time! how wonderful would be the opportunity to stay in a house over a lifetime- thanks

Kutamun said...

You dedinitely have a safe room , Linda. This is so delicate. I think many years have gone by when i read it, and now i am trying to reorient myself back to rhe physical world, gathering up all my selves that were required to unfold for me to appreciate it, so its good poetry , if it can do that , i think .

rosaria williams said...

This is so touching, on so many levels. Familiar places, familiar things that help define our needs and rituals all important to the living moments, now become the test that defines the last moments as well.

Anonymous said...

Lovely thoughtful post

Daydreamertoo said...

This is a beautiful look at what we all do take a look at once in a while. How we come to our end. I loved the talk of the cat, the relationship with it and trying to prevent it grabbing the bird and later warming you. This is such a realistic look at life and our ponderings on what may be our future.
Really lovely read.

ds said...

Lydia, this is just gorgeous. I love the cat, the candlestick puppeteer, the reliving of moments important, the sense of waiting, and the sense of loss. Beautifully done. Thank you.

Helen said...

One of my favorite poems this week! My wish is to know the room I take my final breaths in ... so many are not able to experience that peace.

Carrie Burtt said...

A chilling and brilliant write Lydia! :-)

Kay said...

i really, really loved your piece...the imagery, the warmth, the hope...beautiful..x

Tess Kincaid said...

I love knowing a room so well, you know where to step to avoid the creaks. Very nice.

Lydia said...

Fireblossom~ I like that you used the word fulcrum in your comment!

izzy~ Over time, huh? Thanks!

Kutuman~ What a lovely description "delicate" is. I really appreciate your comments.

rosaria~ "...now become the test..." is such a perfect way to sum the feelings I had about this.

jane~ Thanks to lovely, thoughtful you.

Daydreamertoo~ I appreciate that you found this realistic and still beautiful.

ds~ Many thanks to you in the third story window (no doubt a lovely room).

Helen~ It is my wish also. I am thrilled this is one of your favorites this week. :)

Carrie~ "brilliant" -- wow, thank you!

Kay~ I really, really love your comment!

Tess~ Thank you. (You can tell that I live in an old house, right?)

L.A Speedwing said...

it's growing on me.

susan said...

I too love the idea of being so closely related to a particular space. Mine keeps on changing so I'm continually learning new creaks. You've reminded me of a favorite tiny poem by Sri Chinmoy:

Our mind thinks of death.
Our heart thinks of life
Our soul thinks of Immortality.

Yvonne Osborne said...

This is beautiful, builds to a crescendo and the fabulous ending. Really, the final four lines are just great.

Yvonne Osborne said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Rob-bear said...

The room is there,
your home
within your home,
a comfort made wonderful
by items well placed
and experiences well lived.

It should never
be taking from you
by force
or confounding memory.

Lydia said...

L.A. Speedwing~ I am glad. :)

susan~ Sri Chinmoy's tiny poem is so very beautiful. Never read it before, and I thank you for placing it here.

Rob-bear~ Thank you for a beautiful Part 2 of this post!

Anonymous said...

This really beautifully illustrates the power of place. It's amazing how much influence our space has on us (and how much comfort it gives).

Bee's Blog said...

Coming to realize one's own mortality. I love this even though we don't always like to think about it.

Lucy Westenra said...

Fireblossom (first comment) took the words out of my mouth. Fine poem.

Lydia said...

Amber Lee~ Seems that you figured that out early on, as I did. :)

Bee's Blog~ That realization can be frightening or sublime. Or both!

Lucy Westenra~ Thanks much.

Tess Kincaid said...

I've often pondered this very thing...lovely write...

Lydia said...

Tess~ Thanks so much for pondering with me and liking this.



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