Earthquake
I felt the earth shift beneath my calloused feet. No sounds, no signs, no anything...yet...the earth moved...my life changed.
And my heart bled a few drops more.
A week later came the proof. The words (or rather, the lack thereof).
The landscape HAD changed. It had been transformed.
It’s not that I’m grateful for the fissures and the chasms. I’m not.
It’s just that I felt it as it happened from countless miles and all
the inaudible sounds emanating from so very far away.
My soul, it understood.
OK. Maybe that doesn’t mean all that much to you. I understand.
But it means a great deal to me.
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posted by Jonas | 2/28/2009 11:46:00 PM
10 Comments:
So what didn't happen that has changed your world?
This is very cryptic....
Souls, by their very nature are cryptic, no?
Mine's no different.
you are such a dark poet
I understand. I truly do. And it means so much to me.
I felt the beginnings of an earthquake too, but ignored the signs... didn't run for cover when I should have... when I could have salvaged something of myself. Instead I just stood there and let it swallow me whole.
I do understand.
We prairie people don't have much knowledge of earthquakes, but I am on a deep personal level with tornadoes, which really are just a neighbor of a an earthquake and mess up your soul just as much. Except they don't break things nearly as much as they just move them to where you can't see them anymore....
I'm in the midst of the same shifting ground metaphor, although for different reasons than yours.
And I think you do something with you blog that I do - write, at times, in a veiled way for yourself. I think f it sometimes as an encrypted on-line journal.
it leads me to recognize the forces of nature, it seems that recognition can make the ground shake, literally and figuratively
There is nothing quite so deafening as silence. Well said.
Shame, though. But hey -- orogeny is over-rated as a means of transforming landscapes.
Because slow erosion is its understated equal. It always gets its way, in the end.
I must say, I find these comments fascinating for a number of reasons.
Dark poet? Makes me wonder.
Shared understanding? Makes me glad and sad. Glad I'm not alone. Sad I'm not alone.
I contemplate tornadoes in a new light (and, hey, THIS prairie son lives with tornadoes AND the fearsome New Madrid fault line next door...the best of both worlds?)
Most words seem cryptic to me nowadays, Citizen.
There are people I've met who, in and of themselves, are forces of nature. Bless 'em all.
I just love it when you go all "wise geologist" on me, Roads!
Jezuz, Jonas. That was beautiful. And yes, I do know of this.
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