Born of chaos
lacking heritage
void of order
year upon year
a freefall of frustration
searching for foothold
moment man
longing for clarity
for a sense of belonging
stopping is no option
to lose the way
is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
grows rigid
with the rigor mortis
of apathy
stiff
with unbending ignorance
faltering in fear
paralyzed
gawking inward
at hopelessness
at failure
the giving in
the giving up
the rot
that sets in
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go
of dreams
of possibility
arthritic loss of faith
debilitates the soul
cripples
the manifest light
that shines forth
at the leap
into darkness
into uncertainty
into the sacred unknown
frozen is the cautious man
withered in a worried cage
not unlike the moment man
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way
unmarked
and thus
bleeds out
the color of life
of living
to become cold
and grey
a putrefied husk
of brittled remorse
mired in regret
for never having
shone so brightly
as to blind
the eyes of death
stopping is no option
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Moment Man needs a hobby or a donut or a good movie. I’m recalling a passage near the end of Anna Karenina, where one of the characters says that, left to himself he wants to end it all, that the servants have to hide the guns, but if he takes a walk in nature, he’s fine. Moment Man needs an all expenses paid trip out of his own head, I think.
I used to love to listen to the Doors on my headphones as a teenager. “When The Music’s Over” was a favorite. I don’t think I’ve listened to it in many years, though my iPod does have a smattering of their songs on it.
Moment Man comes around now and then, but I hear him out, and tell him “thanks for sharing” then send him on his way, down the dafk hall then out the door, through my words. I don’t know how much of my writing you’ve read oover the years Shay, but I absolutely love the natural world! Until 6 years ago, Kathy and I lived in the Western Oregon foothills of Mt. Hood, in the Cascade Mountains. We’d hike the mountain trails all the time. I built a beautiful wooden McKenzie drift boat, which I would take alone, several times a week, into the high mountain lakes and streams, to fish the trout varieties, from sun up to sundown. Two or three times a month, we travel the 90 minutes to the Pacific Ocean, and hike Ecola, overlooking the ocean, or walk Indian Beach, and sit on the massive boulders, to feel the ocean breakers slam theM, bumping their hulks together, as we’d feels the mist from the waves, on our faces. Since my health failed significantly in the past few years, i can no longer walk without a cain, and then only room to room, or to the garage to get the car. My occasional trips to the doctor, or the grocery, require I take my mobility scooter. I have my prescriptions and medical supplied delivered. All those years of wonderful wilderness mountain adventures are gone now, other than to drive into the mountains, or along the Coast — which I cherish. But a huge part of my joy in the natural world, has been taken from me. It is hard Shay, so very hard — sometimes quite unbearable.
Do any of us shine so brightly, Rob? Methinks this was born in a dark place, and you need a dose of nature to restore your balance wheel. Nobody writes dark better than you!
I live with an ever-present darkness, as I responded to Shay above — but I can usually dismiss it eventually. I miss my years trekking into, or fishing the remote lakes and riverd in the PacNW wilderness more than I can express Bev. A key part of me has died, part of my spirit, my soul — but I still have the love of my family, which bolsters me.
You expressed such a dark and painful place – I hope there are some lighter days ahead.
I dance with both Marion.
I think that we all can relate to the feelings here at one time or another in our lives. A deep and thoughtful write Rob. I think it is also very therapeutic to write of our struggles and the dark spots we go through. Keep on writing my friend!
Thank you Carrie. I find going face first into my darkness is cathartic.
Rob is there a way you can take your mobility scooter out to nature areas? You need a good dose. Get a golf cart and get to rolling, my friend. You need nature’s rejuvenation and now!
Mine is not designed but for smooth regular surface Lisa. I would so so love a heavier one, with pneumatic tires and balanced suspension! 🙂 They are verrry expensive though. 😐
The rigidity of indecision and worry was palpable in this, despite my brain insisting “Moment Man” was more flash than freeze. I have watched too many superhero movies…
🙂 Moment Man might just be an Sperhero Chrissa? 😉
a putrefied husk
of brittled remorse
mired in regret
for never having
shone so brightly
as to blind
the eyes of death
Luv how you summarized – moment man
Happy Sunday
Much love…
Thank you Gillena — love to you my friend! 🙂
Wow. Moments of depression (for man or woman) can be fiercely debilitating. Hopefully, this man’s moment will be illuminated by the light of his inner strength and the knowledge that this moment will pass.
Your writing captured the agony of depression so well. I look forward to more of your poetry – perhaps of happier topics too.
Darkness has become more familiar and nonthreatening to me Mytna, as I have lost my freedom to roam my magnificent PacNW. But also, the light flashes through in a bright beam sometimes.
We both chose the same photo, it started to take me to a dark place of failure and loss. But, the hopeless dreamer in me wants the star to rise every night in a clear sky. I think we all eventually will die out maybe not the route of a supernova but, perhaps a white dwarf. I don’t know Rob, my mind is wandering today as I think we all hope for a place in the heavens some day.
Shine on my friend until the very end…..
brightest dreams
Thank you True. I have lost my luster, but only for a moment — hopefully… and if you read this as a progressive total, this is in fact a warning about falling into darkness -+ but it is dark in its content. 🙂
Yes, Rob … I recognize your warning about falling into darkness … I would imagine as my journey continues, I will trip / fall / stumble into darkness. However, as you so beautifully tell us … stopping is no option.
Going there happens Helen. Staying there is a choice one should avoid. I also opened this piece recounting some of my personal darkness, but it still is intended sd a universal warning.
The Hero’s journey, beset by demons for sure. Makes me recall Cafavy and “Ithaka” — “Laistrygonians, Cyclops, / wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them / unless you bring them along inside your soul, / unless your soul sets them up in front of you.”
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51296/ithaka-56d22eef917ec
Well said.
Moment Man was pulled from the dark. The pain in your heart was like an open wound. Wish I could give you a hug.
{{{{{{ 🙂 }}}}}} …thank you Sara.