William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

A Blossom to the Wind

Out walking early this morning in a strong southwest wind promising rain, I fell to thinking about my personal history, and how, one by one, so many of my tired habits and other forms of learned behavior have fallen away. It has gradually become clear, for instance, that to think, behave, and eat a certain way, simply because that was the way my father and grandfather thought, behaved, and ate, or others I emulated and admired for what appeared to be their firm grip on life, is a kind of suicide, or the living of a derivative life — a life not based on exploration, but on unexamined findings handed down. This, of course, is just the beginning. Traditions, beliefs, outlooks, how I see myself, others, and the grand work of nature and all it contains — these are all subject to the cleansing wind. And what is, and what will be, left standing? Even that is a tired old question. If aught remains at all, it would be my good fortune to be counted among the fallen trees, or the rocks in the stream, or to be an old lichen-covered gravestone or stump. I would gladly be the taste of a fresh ripe apple in your mouth.

September 15, 2019

A Blossom to the Wind

On a child’s shoe
I’m carried in,
beneath a broom
I’m hurried out,
while fields moan
and hillsides
seek your favor.

If I ask you where
you’ve been,
would you stop
to mourn my passing?

No, says the wind,
but before I go,
I will always
wish thee well.

Such will be my end:
the simple truth
and one last blessing.

Songs and Letters, March 22, 2006

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Categories: New Poems & Pieces, Songs and Letters

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