022.365 - deafness

the poet walks into the fields at dark
the scents of grasses hover close to the ground
if he were taller, he might not smell them
if he were taller, a breeze might tease his ears
but he has the height he has and can at best tiptoe
he must look up to the moon, the stars, the Milky Way
he must look up to the tops of trees, even some walls
what he was seeking, some experience of openness
exists no more among the fields than in the city
if he but knew, he would take himself to the desert
with its rarer forms of life and hardier
and stars right down to the edge of the horizon
and there, there he would reach for that feeling
whatever openness is exists where desert stretches miles
or maybe on a raft in the Pacific miles and miles from shore
there, if openness is his goal, he can experience it
and if a divine exists, maybe there too it appears
but for the poet, too defined by the city and its surrounds
neither can appear, their absence imposes
a kind of deafness on the poet’s hunt for knowledge
the poets wanders back into the city
and breathes the scents of burnt fuels
sees life through smudgy air
and sees sky as a background for the buildings