image by Comfreak at pixabay.com
the hard lane
there are fast lanes that do not wait,
we either get crushed,
or get there sooner,
or we can stand by to see the rush,
and think of falling,
and rising water.
we stop at rules and look for spaces,
or listen to our impulses,
or maybe let loose,
like a naked river,
we can dry up or we can swell,
we can nourish or we can kill.
we view the sky through our eyes,
through the foliage,
through the wire mesh,
while our feet kick at stones,
it is harder now to leave,
our marks on hard cement.
___________
© said sadain, jr. 1992
(slightly revised in 2018)
image by himanshugunarathna at pixabay.com
For me, this poem asks an implicit question about making wise choices in life, and hints at the futility of available choices, with another implicit question at the end about leaving our mark … on concrete, in sand, on water… A perceptive piece, Said. 💙
Thank you, Steve, you always have good words for my poems. I’m glad you find this one perceptive rather than confused, as probably was my state of mind when I wrote it way back in the early 90s 🙂 In any case, I have always believed that a poem, once written, grows a life of its own, a life independent of its writer. It’s reader may try to seize it, but no guarantee it won’t feed on the reader back 😀
Btw, “The Hard Lane” is actually part of a longer, meandering set of verses that included another poem I posted here, “Pathwalks”
(https://sandstarsblog.com/2017/02/17/pathwalks/ ).
My pleasure, Said. I guess I remember asking those questions. I suppose I think I know some answers now, probably a delusion. I agree about our writing, even when I read some of my own very early stuff, I have to admit I don’t understand it. Oh, wait on, I don’t understand anything I write. 😄
I re-read Pathwalks, very enjoyable. Although I hope I am not too doomed because I still have no clue what I’m doing most of the time. 😄
Haha… staying clueless is actually also a choice, Steve, sometimes, a bliss, so you should just be fine 😀