Marilyn: Spectre in humanity, a void.

If I should seek to see you
Golden in the spaces you inhabit,
Knowing you speak seldom if at all
Upon the subject that my eyes request,

And if my wandering, weathered,
Busybody mind goes back or near
Or exactly to you always, like an elk
Home-bounding to a favored spring,

Or if I pass too deep in silence when we meet
Missing the dull, glib cues of protocol
That would announce me other than I am,
I hope to be forgiven.

I’ve not come looking. It’s not my manner.
I move slowly as the cold moons move.
I’ve tried to trick your ghosting tides a dozen ways,
Sculling further after freedom than a stretch of sea.

Yet, when I see you golden in your space
My reason bends, a fool’s rod
Dousing for elkin brooks where love abounds,
Where I am hope, and young, and you are everything.
Gladden S

MM A smile masking the wounds that gape, never healing. Friends have often asked, why Marilyn? She is a trope, a metaphor for the constant loss and pain Andrei Tarkovsky Spent his life committed to seek,
She is a powerful symbol of the thing…
Permanently lost – barely present in humanity itself.
We all pray the day our sadness comes, Because that day, we are all alone.
For some it comes too often for one trip.


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