Voices
So many voices!
I believe I’ve had my fill.
We’ve come to the end of a seemingly interminable election cycle.
So many voices! Voices bloviating, prevaricating, slandering, promising, obfuscating, ranting, spewing, exhorting, inspiring, deflating, defaming, confusing, shouting, muttering, analyzing, debating and persuading. So many voices...too many voices.
In the end, we the people elected a man of considerable promise.
A man of intellect, compassion and composure. I wish to celebrate
in silence, if only for a little while.
We’re floundering in a sea of economic woe. So many voices! Voices lying, crying, denying, panicking, fear-mongering, begging, fretting, pontificating, testifying, hawking, swearing, blaming and praying.
The damage is done. Three decades of unbridled greed and blatant corporatism have come home to roost. I would rather contemplate my Nation's economic demise in silence.
Then there are the voices of those whom I love. Just a few too many, sorry to say. Telling me they’ve found another. Informing me of illnesses and death. The voices remain beloved forever...but pain overwhelms. I wish to grieve in silence.
So many voices! I’ve truly had my fill. In times like these I dream
of running far, far away to join a caravan of wandering mimes.
If there is to be a voice to fill my ears, let it be a soothing, kind and trusted one that softly whispers from a pure, true heart directly to my very own. A gentle voice in the dark of night to fill me with dreams and hope again.
* * *
This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again
Regina Spektor
* * *
This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again
Regina Spektor
* * *
posted by Jonas | 11/07/2008 01:44:00 PM
12 Comments:
So many think they know what to say, when all you need them to do is not say anything at all.
More should show what they mean, instead of saying what they don't.
Sometimes, it is the silence that says it all, the touch that conveys the greatest meaning.
Warm hugs, Jonas.
Lovely poem.
hmmm....i have a strong urge now to create a troup of wandering mimes. . .
Amen for silence.....
I enjoyed the poem muchly~
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
"And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again"
Sometimes, I don't know if I can place myself into the position of pumpling someone else's blood again.
I walked arm in arm until the last step. I am afraid to be that invested again, no matter how many voices say that I can or should...
Enjoyed your words regarding voices and how they need to have understanding that silence brings its own comfort...
Thank you, Ponygirl. Actions ALWAYS speak louder than words (to this jaded wordsmith, anyway).
I must mention that Regina Spektor is a singer/sonwriter, and I've simply posted the lyrics from a song entitled (I think) "On the Radio." I'm not overly taken with the song itself, but these two verses blow me away.
Oh, Ms. Tempest...if only I were a (much) younger man! I'd mime my way through life with the likes of you!
I understand, Ms. Shadowlands. Grief is a terribly powerful barricade against new love. Grief must have its day and run its course before the heart can blossom again.
Timing is EVERYTHING.
well said,. twas a joy to stumble upon your blog.
the way you express these thoughts-lovely light and solemn how can they all be together in the same thee?
vision i might guess and magic be the rest
Thank you, Tipota! Sadly, my "magic" is more of the parlor game variety, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.
You, on the other hand...
Your post has me crying - sobbing, actually. I, too, ache for that "soothing, kind and trusted one that softly whispers from a pure, true heart directly to my very own."
Thank you for touching me in the way that you have.
You're welcome, Anna. Now go whisper softly to your babies...
You have such a gift,
You write with a gentle eloquence and immediacy which truly engages.
Soft light and winged hope,
Maithri
Oh, yeah. Sometimes silence really is golden. Enjoy the peace and quiet.
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