These ancient manuscripts hold only hurt
But still I write what has befallen me.
I've read between the lines but haven't learnt
That wood is sadly shielded by the trees.
I chased you round the glades and never found
A way to grasp your shade and make it stay;
The more you ran, the less I was allowed
To make you mine in any concrete way.
And thus I chased and so you disappeared,
Despite my cries that echoed through the hills.
Alas, what has been done is as I feared:
My love is breathless now and has been stilled.
I tried to live with you amongst the leaves,
But now I die beneath the naked trees.
'I tried to live with you amongst the leaves,
But now I die beneath the naked trees.'
So simple, yet so poignantly evocative. I think it's really tough to end poems, but you always nail it. You've found a way to write honestly in formed poetry without losing any of the imagery along the way. That's difficult. I loved this.
The depth and sadness of a love being breathless instead of saying "I'm breathless"... and those last two lines especially. This reminded me of how fast the seasons change, how we can hold on to a love only to see it progress and move to someone else. The correlation of nature here and extension of love, in any relationship, really made me feel this piece. The imagery of the trees, of wanting to keep one's shade and stay in it, then having to cope with what is lost to us. When we want to hold on to the warmth yet it's fleeting, and we're left with the bones of nature as winter has no mercy. And the times when we're left after having given so much to someone, only for them to return it, or leave us with the bare reminders of what could have been fulfillment. Chasing what we know we can't call ours.
As ever, your sonnets bring quite to my mind.
I know sonnet's deliver on many levels, not just to the reader, but the author, too. The process of writing is like self-discovery. It allows us to step outside ourselves and offers a different perspective.
With nature falling away, we are left with another barren Winter. This feeling of loss will be relatable to many. Why is the acceptance of this the hardest of all?