essence in Surikov

"essence in Surikov"

 

 

He wrote it as the warmth left his hand,

a red-warm script rising from within,

as though the line itself carried breath:

"In this life it is not new to die,"

 

spoken with the calm of someone

who has watched winter iterating

its familiar pattern for centuries,

each return neither omen nor surprise,

just the world continuing its old motion.

 

"But neither is it new to be alive,"

and here the words shift their weight-

not brighter, not louder,

but opening a quiet passage

where another way of making

steps forward without ceremony.

 

From there, the thought rallies toward

a way of making that masters the familiar

through observant contemplation,

shaping what is here by returning to it,

touch after touch,

until the red-warm script

settles into ink

that congeals with a rising, breathing wind.

 

 

 

 

.

Author's Note

On 28 December, 1925, Sergei Aleksandrovich Esenin expires by his own hand at the Hotel d'Angleterre in Leningrad, aged 31. The quote in this poem was written in his own blood.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

A more than fine and gentle debate with Self, sir. Start to finish you raised your thoughtful flag and shared it with me and surely will be, many others. Life and death are the finite happenings in every living 'things' time on our planet. It needs be accepted because it's fact - just as breathing is.

Such fine words:

'"But neither is it new to be alive,"
and here the words shift their weight-
not brighter, not louder,
but opening a quiet passage
where another way of making
steps forward without ceremony.'

[redd Brick Keshner]

Thank you, emmajoy. A moderate view gets us through 🕊️🙏🏻

[emmajoygreen]

If nothing else! :)

[Desert Knave]

Awesome job using the quoted bits to build around and expand on. Kudos. ~Jim

[redd Brick Keshner]

Hey Jim, thanks so much. A bit of poetic appropriation there. Not an everyday thing but worth expanding on. You are much appreciated 🙏🏻🕊

[Michael Sun Bear]

“But if devils nested in my soul it means angels lived there too” Thank you Fred, I had not known of this poet. I really like the little I have now read in translation.

[redd Brick Keshner]

Our individual stories do matter, I truly believe. One day it will be our turn to be dug up or forgotten. Thanks, Michael, so much 🕊️🙏🏻