Monday, 11 March 2013

Blur

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

While waiting for a cataract operation on my right eye, I began to consider a deeper significance of the blur in front of me everywhere I went. [I am pleased to report that the procedure went well on March 1st and I can already see better although my vision in that eye remains a little watery.)

Now, why write a poem instead of an essay or a novel? Why paint a picture rather than create a sculpture? Why compose a symphony and not a ballad?  Could it be that the inner eye strives to focus on what can never quite come into focus because it does not exist, but remains a haunting presence needing to find ways to make itself felt if not known…?

BLUR

Everything is a blur;
I can scarcely see the way ahead;
Yet, I have only to look up
to spot friendly faces in clouds,
hanging from Earth’s ancient rafters
like celebration bunting

Everything is a blur;
I can scarcely see the way ahead;
Yet, I have only to look down
to spot familiar tracks in wet grass
leading to places I love whose smell
fills me with spring

Everything is a blur;
I am left peering into a misty rain;
Yet, I have only to let birdsong
take on body and spirit to negotiate
safe passage past nature’s funereal veil
to Mount Parnassus

Senses, conscience, reasoning…
Blur is everything;

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013



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