“My Port of Ships” by Genevieve Jeanine Hersek

My Port of Ships

A subject might be best
understood by its root.

That day the sky resembled a scaffold
Framed, under construction
People scurried below
Attempting to build stairways
To comprehend it.

We laughed at the thunder and
Night rain.

From our tears
Flowed sheets of verse & music
We rolled the pages, tied and
Sealed them in bottles
You threw them into
All seven seas just to be safe
We walked quickly past the hall
Of the saddler’s son
To a louvered, ephemeral dovecote
Of our choosing.

Then I spoke of percepts of consciousness:
You cannot let it happen.
The same ill-fated events that befell my native City
Which doesn’t fully understand itself
Because it is too inclusive,
So much so, that it has lost
Its identity
Like Rodin’s contemptible “others”
False in attribute & form
Who portray themselves as such
And are not,
Marred by transients
Who take everything from it
And leave it in the end
Littered, defaced, tarnished,
Less than it would become.
Shirk them now while there’s still time.
Escape.
Free yourself from this darkness,
As did I.

There is rioting
The earth quakes
The envious take aim, perhaps unconsciously,
In an effort to divide you from
Who you are
Using you as scaffold
They will eventually abandon you
Leaving you disconnected,
Extinct,
Bubbling in some tar pit
Or looking back disillusioned
Frozen in a broken pillar
Of disobedient tufa rock.

Even now,
People rarely listen to me,
But oh, this one time, if only you would.
Return to your exquisite wisps and lullabies.
Be patient. Endure. Be strong. Be hopeful.
Let destiny unfold
Via the million little kindnesses
We will perform with full hearts.

You see,
I dreamed of you last night.
It started out in the fruits & vegetables section
Just as when the children were small,
I shared with them –
And so I share with you now
In every possible way
And everywhere we are
We are together
Living within the
Colors, textures, & patterns
Of paper, fabric, wood & stone
Forever laughing and loving
We smell, taste & touch everything
So that our fingertips will know
How it feels to be fully present.

Now then, you must know,
I’ve always sought to take our senses
To some edge in us,
Questing after a place
Where not even the most profound book,
Picturesque location,
Or brilliant person
Could ever reach
In such surrender
A type of willful evolution
Perhaps instinctively I know
You need those pathways to reach
Your greatest potential.
I need them
To not die.

Is there no special dispensation for this?

And in the dreamscape
You and I
Walk to a place
Beneath cedars
And stillness
Where two crystalline creeks meet
In a happy meadow
Of Grass Lily & Woodland Star
A child’s swing appears
You are seated
I am on your lap
Facing you this time
Holding tightly around you.
Suddenly we are surrounded by children
Painting canvases
When we run out of canvas,
We paint ourselves and laugh
We are beautiful and full of the lightnesses.
We climb the Bluebird Canyon playground
Rocket ship and choose our Nebulae
From which we came
You are Cat’s Eye, & I, Carina
I joke how I am probably only wishing
To be Carina,
But in actuality I am The Little Dumbbell.

Afterward, I drive,
Pull into a safe place
And tell you: “hold onto your underpants!”
I do two donuts
So that you will always understand
That, while I am the cautious-type
I have a wild side that refuses to be tamed.
That night we chase
Sandpiper footprints along the edge
Of sea
Write our linked names
In the sand
We look intensely at each other
And smile
With a final “Yes”
As they wash away
Not wishing for them to remain,
But rather, pleased as they sink into the shoreline
Buried together for eternity.
Later we go to the place I first believed. We wrap ourselves
Snuggled in our grandmother’s handmade quilts
You are The Wagon Wheel & I,
The Little Dutch Girl.
I whisper curious words: “These are they.”

I awakened asking:
Where are you?

There is an inclination
An affinity,
A tendency of binding
There is no space
Of Heaven that can be restrained
It is always widening, yet
We find each other within a narrow seam.
We enter by way of adhesion
We are covered head to toe in stars
The strength of our souls
Connected by a golden chamber
Of precious, silvered collars
We are taken up
By the volume,
Pressed in,
Absorbed into the sponge
Of resplendent sky
Aglitter.

Once again
I am reminded
Who wears the pants in the Cosmos
And happily I concede,
It is not i.

I am stillness.
An unwavering figure
The befitting
Presence
Accessible
As the hand carved, ash
Dough bowl beside me
Shelved
Marked by its history.

Yet I am blessed to know secret things
And there is a fragrance in silence.

Now encapsulated temporarily
Within a lofty, mountain arrangement
Surrounded by brash,
I sleep in my
Humble hollow
As the winter rakes
Slowly, the wind
Pushes the lake away from me.

I am superfluous
An arbitrary ligand
A Sparrow d’jour.
I am Bloodroot & unexpected Eglantine.
I am out of place Tourmaline
Clinging to a promise:
The Vine
Which grows in free soil
And lays itself down
Suffused & pierced by
Perfect love
And the power of man.

Just the other day
You were on the stair
Then ascended to check on the kids
Last night
I held you to my mouth
As writing implements
Beside my cheek.

This sustained.

And one day
When I am
Absorbed into the Immensity,
I just wanted you to know
My love,
It was all for you.
It was all for you.

gjh.