Listen . . . Listen . . .

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Tune to the frequency of the wood and
you’ll hear the deer, breathing; a muscle, tensing;
the sigh of a field mouse under an owl.
Now listen to yourself —
that friction — the push-and-drag,
the double pulse, the drum.
You can hear it, clearly.
You can hear the sound of your body, breaking down.
If you’re very quiet, you might pick up loss:
or rather the thin noise that losing makes — perdition.
If you’re absolutely silent and still,
you can hear nothing but the sound of nothing:
this voice and its wasting, the soul’s tinsel.
Listen . . .
Listen . . .

~ Robin Robertson, Tinsel from Sailing the Forest: Selected Poems  (Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2014 )


Notes:

Comments

  1. Perfect as headed to the wood shortly. Have a peaceful Sunday.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Being one with all…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. the tinsel unwraps from the holiday and leaves a bare tree, brittle and crackling.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “the thin noise that losing makes”
    wow!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Too many people go to all the trouble of taking a walk out in “nature” with their ears plugged with music and their eyes glued to their latest gadget, their minds occupied with texting. Why bother to go out there at all if you shut your mind, your eyes, and ears to it? Very few people really “listen” these days.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. this would make such a fabulous required read for high schoolers and…. well, everyone, actually.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I have this perception of myself as a Walker in the Woods, but it’s been years since I’ve done that. I don’t even WALK anymore when I used to hit the track or trail every day. This reminds me to try again and see if the mantle still fits.

    Liked by 1 person

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