Dan's Path 5 October 2015 Poem by Daniel Brick
Dan's Path 5 October 2015
I walk through SALEM HILLS
following the twists and turns,
the looping and circling
of its many paths past oak trees,
prairie lawns, sumac lanes and
quiet ponds, following also the paths
of my thoughts, random, transient,
looping just like the park trails.
But today, a surprise as I approached
a familiar lane of sumac, beckoning me
with its new autumn red attire. A plaque
pounded into a tree overlooking
the lower path caught my eye. The
inscription said, DAN'S PATH and
an arrow pointed left, the way I was
headed. In much smaller print the dates
of his birth and death were inscribed.
Only thirty years old when he passed
from their presence to whom he was
a friend or a lover or a brother,
so many possibilities but only one
fate. I imagine a community of people
buried him in a plot, said their final
farewells, and then decided upon this
memorial path. And on a day perhaps
much like today assembled in the woods,
chose the tree above the sumac lane,
and stood in silence as the plaque
was pounded into place. Sheets of sunlight
cascaded over you as you said a second
final farewell. And then it was over,
and you dispersed... But one among you
lingered alone, under the tree's shade, staring
at the name and occasionally glancing
at the path below. I watch over your
silence at the edge of speech. What is it
you want to say? I am listening. Do you
want to say Dan is in God's heaven,
with Jesus and the saints? I will bow
my head prayerfully. But maybe you believe
death is a final end, and Dan now lives
only in your memory, forever thirty,
virile and healthy, full of more life
than thirty years could use up, an excess
of being which touches you with its undying
promise, it unquenchable spirit. If this is
what you say I will applaud the strength
of your memory. But perhaps you believe
there is an immense cavern in which all
of our dead sleep, holding hands and slipping
in and out of each other's dreams, and no evil
can disturb their delight so perfect is
this sleep across eternity. If this is what
you say, I will share your smile and we will
briefly join hands. Whatever you want to say,
Whatever you need to say, say it...
I am listening still.
I had a different reaction to your poem. I read it on the day I received photos from my parents of a plaque affixed to a tree deep in the woods in West Virginia, along the Cheat River, where my brother's ashes were buried more than 5 years ago(they visited him today) . I was just starting to write a poem about the walk to the tree with my husband, parents, sister, our children, members of the nature conservancy.... When I felt I could not write. Then I happened upon this beautiful piece! I often wonder what people think when they happen to see my brother's tree, what my brother thinks being buried in the middle of nowhere in the mountains... It's all so surreal. You captured perspectives and moments in this write. I'm glad you wrote this and I saw this tonight. Thank you!
This is an amazing coincidence, Pam! I'm speechless and humbled that I could be responsible for fulfilling what struck me as a mission when I was writing it but now more than ever it seems like a blessing I was meant to deliver. In a sense, you are a candidate for the one who lingered behind after the other mourners left. I do believe inspiration is a gift that flows through us. We should be grateful not vain. We are currents, part of the larger force of electricity of poetry.
I read your latest poems: Dimitri's Soul, Dan's Path 5 October 2015 and Debussy. All of them are very good, but Dan's Path is the one I prefer. It belongs in The Double Door, of course. It is a tale of death - a young man dead we don't know when (but it is not important) and 'found again', per chance, at the beginning of Fall - but without the sorrow that comes along with death.. In it, there is rather the acceptance of a sad fate that cuts a life and let others - friends, family members - go on living theirs.. The memory of the dead guy is left on a plaque, affixed to a tree, in the lush green park where the man used to go. And in the minds of those who loved him.. But maybe.. and here a 'hope' rises — but you know I hate that kind of 'hope'! ;) — there is a place for the souls.. an afterlife.. for those who wish or need to believe in such a chance.. An 'open' finale.. with a wise 'smile'. EXCELSIOR!
I'm fascinated by this fantastic (but real!) phrase: slipping in and out of each other's dreams, and no evil can disturb their delight... although you invite to share reader's opinion - I have nothing more beutifel and faithful to add. exept may be that God granted them more power - to extract others from evil and expand their delight more and more! great!
I loved the magical feeling I felt. The poem had the ability to transport me to Salem Hills, where there stood this beautiful magical tree. I could see everyone as they drift away and only one stood behind. But one among you lingered alone, under the tree's shade, staring at the name and occasionally glancing at the path below. I watch over your silence at the edge of speech. What is it you want to say? I am listening. Do you want to say Dan is in God's heaven, with Jesus and the saints? I will bow I could feel that person's sorrow and how much the tree seem to want to comfort that person. This poem is one of those Memorable Poems, that stays in your head for a long time. Thank you so much for sharing such a lovely poem.
I was with you on that walk, Daniel. I saw the plaque and imagined the service too. My first thoughts were of the other Dan. Was it an illness, an accident? Then, as I do, I did not grieve for the deceased but those he left behind and wondered about how they are dealing with it. The thought of a place where the dead hold hands and share dreams is lovely. I too am still listening.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 6:10:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Life follows with twists and turn that is as usual. Walking through Salem hill and experiencing this is nice and amazing in this imagery drawn here. Imagining community of people and holding hands and pilling experience many things in deep emotion. I listen to all whatever words you say here with wise imagery. Very amazing and wonderful sharing definitely....10
Thanks much for your appreciation of my poem. Your words about my poems are deeply treasured and gove me the impetus to continue writing. As you well know as a poet yourself, we poets are assailed by doubts and only the recognition of our efforts by our readers give us the necesary strength of purpose.