Letting Go, a Song of Twilight

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Regular readers will know that Hampstead Heath is not far from where I live. Read about it at:

http://www.hampsteadheath.net/index.html

- and find some poems under the 'Culture' heading

& .hear one of my Heath poems - the very first one - (On Hampstead Heath) on my YouTube channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1z_NiNpRQw&t=114s

Now, I have often said on my blogs that letting go of the past and moving on does not necessarily mean leaving anyone or anything behind.

In my experience, the moment of letting go and placing it in the time capsule we call Memory is invariably as intense as it is exquisite; intense, because it is so personal and so exquisite for being so highly charged with the bitter-sweet smells and tastes of recollection, the inner eye selecting the best of the best while tactfully (or conveniently) skipping the worst.

This poem is a villanelle.

LETTING GO, A SONG OF TWILIGHT

On Parliament Hill, I let go of a kite
and watched it drift over London
till just a speck of summer twilight

I felt humbled by the glorious sight
as if I were sailing heavens;
on Parliament Hill I let go of a kite

Fair, copycat bird in graceful flight
filled me with awe and inspiration
till just a speck of summer twilight

The faintest star, harbinger of night,
tracking me down Memory Lane,
on Parliament Hill, I let go of a kite

Empathising with passing daylight,
gripped by a sense of hanging on
till just a speck of summer twilight

Putting wrongs aside (if not right),
time enough for celebration...
On Parliament Hill, I let go of a kite
till just a speck of summer twilight

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2014

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem appears under the title 'Letting Go' in 1st eds. of On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Epiphany On Hampstead Heath

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Hampstead Heath has not seen any snow (yet) this winter, but I went for a stroll there only yesterday afternoon in brilliant sunshine, and ...it felt GOOD to be alive.

Photo: Hampstead heath in Winter

EPIPHANY ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH

I stood on Parliament Hill

watching children playing in the snow,

wondering where, oh, where

did my childhood go? And the rosy faces

became those I used to know

I walked on Parliament Hill

though a shrill wintry wind sure to blow,

sounds of laughter in my ears

of long, long ago but faded soon enough

among tears I’d come to know

I paused on Parliament Hill

admiring London’s heady New Year show,

wondering where, oh, where

did Santa go? But in a vast maze of streets

that in time I came to know

I descended Parliament Hill,

among sledge marks churning up the snow,

to a coming of age… where

the carefree days and ways of my childhood

may haunt but dare not follow

At the foot of Parliament Hill

I made my way home, thoughtful and slow,

mindful of an epiphany…when

I embraced the cheers and fears of adulthood

on the Heath, one January snow

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009