Ship sailing

TESTAMENT: A poem by Max Reif

This piece was brought about by a 34-post thread on my Profile Page responding to my initial question, “Is it possible, living in a candy store, to give up not only eating candy, but wanting candy?” Some very strong responses came in. This is my considered (and expanded) meditation, after absorbing them. It may require much revision, but I felt excited to have succeeded, at least subjectively, in saying so much about the complex matters I intended to address:

TESTAMENT

1.

Oh, I let my ships, my ships sail out

into many an exotic port.

I let my fancy fly, oh yes,

I let my fancy play.

I let my guard down low, as well.

In the citadel of myself,

I let the battlements down,

 

and many a sailor lost his way

in those exotic ports,

and were never heard from again, oh no,

were never heard of again.

 

And when I let the battlements down,

enemies often held sway,

yes, my enemies often held sway.

 

2.

For I was a reckless, reckless man,

a sea-faring, go-too-far man,

and I never knew when to stop, to stop,

I never knew when to stop.

 

But when I saw my sailors lost in port

and the enemies come through the gates,

I saw the havoc was going too far. Oh,

the havoc was going too far.

(As far as a tumbleweed will blow;

as far as Youth can go.)

 

3.

So now I’m a cautious man, oh yes,

I’m a much more careful man,

for every time I lost my way

I paid a weighty price;

I paid a very dear price.

 

I’ve seen my blood run down into the sewer,

and I said, “My life-blood is flowing away,

My life-blood is flowing away;”

And that way I learned how precious it is.

 

4.

But it’s not as simple as that, oh, no.

Nothing is really that simple.

For I’m more than just one theme, I’ve found;

yes, I fancy we’re all more than one.

 

Besides being a reckless and foolish man

and not knowing when to stop—

other times I sat on the sidelines,

and did not do enough.

 

Just sat on the sidelines and did not dare

to do what I longed to do.

And it’s a terrible thing, to watch your life

flow down the river without you.

 

5.

Still other times, all of my dreams came true

beyond my fondest wishing.

And I milked the joy for all it was worth,

and joy’s cousin, pleasure, too.

 

(Ah, sometimes the paradise ship comes in,

and we think it’s come in to stay.

But these paradise ships stayed awhile in my port,

and then they sailed away.

I’d indulged myself like a bee in a flower,

and learned loss a hard, hard way.)

 

6.

So now in these later years, as I’ve said,

I’m a much more careful man.

I may not be the dreamer I was when young,

but not so terrified, either.

 

God hears our prayers, I’ve had to conclude,

it’s just as the Great Ones say.

Slowly have grown up a life and a home;

yes, helplessness and need are the way, the way,

helplessness and need are the Way.

For a bit of a shelter from constant storms,

I’m grateful every day.

 

7.

Now I sit here in the eye of the Present

with the world and the past arrayed.

And it’s still like a puzzle,

some pieces in place,

with more pieces yet to be laid.

I go on studying life as I live,

and living as I study.

I don’t see a way to have gotten here

without getting my hands all bloody.

 

And I’ve not much to say, by way

of advice, not much to say at all.

You have your own sailors, your own citadel,

your own version of “the Fall.”

We become the best expert on ourselves

as the decades slide on by,

and I believe we all get what we need,

if only we hang in and try.

image: ship sailing via Shutterstock

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