They Were Just Shadows
It was late
in the afternoon
of the sixth day.
The sun was
tinting the trees
orange. The forest had
saved the heat,
but when we passed
through the shadows,
blue, they were very dark.
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Comments
I came by to read your poem after seeing it on the Gnosis Poetry Journal just released. There is something about this poem that slmost takes my breath away. It is so "of a place" yet of no place. It hints of a time but does not reveal a time, and it at first seems to provide a description yet deconstructs that description as in:
when we passed
through the shadows,
blue, they were very dark.
Everything you offer you turn around and take it away again!!!! Like the promises of a faithless lover, or the behind the back lies told by an overly flattering best friend. I feel both uplifted and betrayed by this poem; perhaps that is why reading it makes me feel like there is a big fat cat on my chest, and my heart is struggling to continue pounding and my lungs are tugging at the air.
It's rather a magnificent feeling, though, I admit, also one verging in the horrific. Thank you Don Shaeffer, you have just set before me a creative mountain whose summit I will likely never be able to reach, but since it is there, I will try.