Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Heartspur Sunrise



image from pinterest.com 

Heartspur Sunrise


“You can only appreciate the miracle, the gift of a

sunrise after you have lived in the darkness.”

--Anonymous.


Aging 

is a blessed curse,

having its own yin and yang.


It becomes a room

with thousands of doors,

and every day, one or more

will not open for you.


It’s

about being starlorn

at high noon

in a city that’s covered

in a starless night sky.


It’s

about chronic amentalio

because parents and friends

have passed before you

and neither snapshot

nor portrait is enough.


It’s

also the warm lisolia

of polishing the wooden stock

on your grandfather’s .30-.06,

where dozens of family shoulders

have worn a loving niche in it.


It’s 

the tugging heartmoor

of driving through the city

you grew up in, 

and getting lost

while searching for

one of the houses you lived in.


It’s

the torrent of heartspur

tears that well up

as you watch

THE WIZARD OF OZ,

because you and your mother

used to watch it annually.


It’s

the harrowing aphasia

that haunts you daily

as Confederate flags

and Nazi SS pins

are flaunted openly

and Civil War seems to loom.


It’s

the irritating etherness

that you experience at family gatherings,

while watching your happy grandchildren,

as you wonder how in hell

will they adjust to a planet in revolt?

Who will succumb to drugs,

who will have a bad marriage,

and who will die young?


And it’s

the barbed kenopsia

that lurks in the air

when you walk down Main Street

and more than half

of the Mom & Pop businesses 

are boarded up.

Is it the new Mall

or Covid that is

responsible?



Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

17 comments:

Callsign Santa said...

A heartfelt collection if verse, all ringing so true, reflection that runs deep.....

Linda Lee Lyberg said...

Glenn- this is amazing and so utterly poignant.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is so evocative! I especially resonate with; "It's the tugging heartmoor of driving through the city you grew up in."💝💝

Helen said...

I relate to every gorgeous stanza! An amazing poem.

JadeLi said...

Glenn you nailed this prompt. It resonates deeply. The thousand doors and finding a steady number of them not being able to open anymore. The body is a faithful servant but it gets tired. I think of my brothers that have inherited the rifles and shotguns from earlier times and I wonder who will inherit from them. It makes me sad to think of the tomorrows that might not be blessed for the grandkids.

Fireblossom said...

I'm not a gun person at all, but I am from a hunting state and the mention of the 30-06 took me back and I could smell the oil, see the shine of the stock, and remember mornings in upper Michigan with relatives long ago.

Carol Congalton said...

I can relate! You said it pretty much how it is when one is getting older. I think every generation goes through this in some shape or form.

robkistner said...

Powerful stuff brother, and you covered the gamut of the world’s not so obscure sorrows. This ripped at the heart of of thd turmoil! Excellent write. I went to a turmoil deep within.

Ingrid said...

A ringing indictment of our times, Glenn. I love this description:

'It becomes a room

with thousands of doors,

and every day, one or more

will not open for you.'

Wryly humorous. I also echo your concern for the youngest generation who are growing up in this shitstorm, my own children included.

ben Alexander said...

"and every day, one or more
will not open for you."


Perfect imagery... and I also really loved your words about looming war (not the reality of it... just your description of it, Glenn)

Much love,
David [ben Alexander]

Brendan said...

The first two stanzas explain the rest and the second is the knockout - perfect. Obscure emotions fill the rest and though they are pitch-perfect too, the words for them create unnecessary work for the reader. (For that reason, I think the challenge fails through no fault of your own). Each of those stanzas another door that may or may not open. Yin and yang: there's a fate to that which makes this lousy business of getting old a comfort. Thanks.

brudberg said...

Perfect Glenn, one of your best, I go from verse to verse and feel how each one of them just add to the completeness.. those closing doors I have already seen.

Sunra Rainz said...

This is so moving, Glenn. You succinctly describe the blessing and curse of ageing with such poignant examples. Very moving.

These stanzas really stood out for me:

"It’s
about being starlorn
at high noon
in a city that’s covered
in a starless night sky."

"It’s
the tugging heartmoor
of driving through the city
you grew up in,
and getting lost
while searching for
one of the houses you lived in."

It's why I always listen to the stories elderly people have to tell. They are filled with stories they are bursting to share and sometimes those closest to them don't care to listen.

Anyway, great poem :-)

Sunra

lynn__ said...

You blew my mind (what I have left) with this one, Glenn!

Kerfe said...

Everyday sorrows, not obscure at all...a recognition as you encountered each word.

Dora said...

Couldn't be said any better, Glenn, down to the last detail, which made it so easy to relate. Eloquently crafted.
Pax,
Dora

Gillena Cox said...

Luv every verse.

Much💟love