The Two Journeyers Poem by Daniel Brick
The Two Journeyers
When I call you to mind, I see you
with your back to all the others,
waving with your right hand
to someone out there, ahead of you even,
someone who barely pauses to acknowledge
your gesture of greeting, has already turned
and moved quickly upward, out of sight and
hearing. Was it a Man of Desire, like Rene Char?
Or perhaps a Woman of Singular Talent?
Could it have been an Angel, intent upon
a Mission of his own devising? Those of us
who wait in the shadow of these events
will never know. Even you are puzzled,
but you don't feel my unrest. What's the use?
It would only compromise your freedom.
You turn around, and for the first time
I see your face. Our eyes lock for a moment
of recognition in which I feel more than
your regard. The moment passes, other moments
crowd in its place, and the ordinary business
of a train platform resumes. People play it safe
with small talk and laughter. I adjust the weight
of the things I am carrying. Should I, like you
and that other journeyer, discard everything
but my compass and periplus? Leave it all behind
for someone else in desperate need? I aspire
to live like you beyond need, in a condition
almost weightless, subject to winds and tides
of my own devising, a master of nothing less than
liberty of spirit...
I have committed all of these thoughts to writing,
but everything I write vanishes as if it were
written in invisible ink. My memory is beginning
to fail me, too. I was once the Homer of my generation,
now I am like his Penelope, witnessing everything
I do in time unravel daily before it can enter eternity.
Oh, could I join my fate to yours all would be well:
your recognition just now conveyed no invitation.
Should I instead pursue that other journeyer? The one
who blends reality and fantasy into a seamless whole.
Is there time enough to dither, test options, seek out
the Hand of Fate? Or must I hasten even now, because
we are approaching the precincts of the temple, and
the ceremony of transfiguration has already begun?
written in invisible ink - that's exactly what I feel from your poetry. We long for a spiritual world, and all of us will grow in wonderful lightful figures.
Yes, I think you identified the motive deep below this poem, namely, WE LONG FOR A SPIRITUAL WORLD: the imagery tries to express the reality of such a distant possibility. Right now it seems so unattainable, but in the fullness of time it will be effortess. I'm giving voice to your faith.
Daniel, you so capture the push and pull of our dilemma to follow our hearts or continue with our ordinary business, especially when we see time winding down to whatever transfiguration is out there. One of my favorites of yours; going on my favorites list which is still very short.
I aspire to live like you beyond need, in a condition almost weightless, subject to winds and tides of my own devising, a master of nothing less than liberty of spirit... This, I believe is the crux of the poem. You long for a transfiguration, you want to discard every weight and feel light like the first journeyer. There is great freedom in divesting one of all his cumbersome baggage. But time has run out and you wonder if there is still time to'test options'. But to your joy, you find that the transfiguration has already begun. Life is a pilgrimage and you can be content that you have made sufficient progress! Enjoyed this blend of metaphysical and philosophical brooding!
I read this poem few times trying to reach and enjoy its depth. Make it resonate with what not only I but many a writers have felt and expressed. A connection that some time overpowers us. We could call it a spiritual connection sensed beyond senses or an experience of subjective mind. It is fleeting, it is momentary yet it's influence is so deep and powerful. Fitting it in words is some thing that has been done in this poem with superb craftsmanship. The three travelers fit so well with layers of mind traveling in different planes of consciousness. We wish to be whole, to know it all but journey seems to be ending. Yet the transformation is continuous. Love the lines...memory is failing...once I was homer of my generation. Yet there is an aspiration, a desire to unlock and frame in words what is so far beyond. Thank you Daniel for sharing this beautiful piece.
A very philosophical poem on life. The moments pass, other moments crowd in its place...that's so true of life. Life is about continuity, about movement. A train journey as a metaphor for life is so apt. People leave, but life goes on as before. My memory is beginning to fail me might be a reference to old age. The ceremony of transfiguration...we constantly evolve spiritually. Well..it has been a very profound write. I don't know if I have interpreted it right but it has been a very enlightening read. Thanks for sharing Daniel.
A desire to become weightless, to become free and light to pursue something sublime runs through the poem. - - - I aspire to live like you beyond need, in a condition almost weightless, subject to winds and tides of my own devising, a master of nothing less than liberty of spirit' A wonderful and sublime poem.
I read this poem three times before I wanted to comment on it, and then read it once more, just for the poem's sake perhaps, and I am not ashamed that I took the fourth read! It made me see the poem in a completely different light.. At the beginning, I was wondering if it is about that one moment when we come face to face with some kind of spiritual being, who enlightens us.. Maybe even just a moment - a moment of transition in a person's life, say just before going through a rite of passage (I hope I got that phrase right) ... I liked these two interpretations, but then a third hit me.. I felt maybe, just maybe this poem is about the 'meeting' between an 'idea' and the 'artist'... I mean, we all as artists have come to terms with this experience. Something comes into our mind, a simple idea or a complex one or whatever, we see it - not really recognising what it actually is (as in your poem the speaker fails to understand the identity of this 'second' journeyer) - and then sometimes we express it in our works.. Just a fleeting moment when the seeds of creativity is planted in our souls, and we, as poor artists, slaves to our own intellectual abilities and the kind of 'mood' we are in, never really understand what plant will rise from our minds.. A fascinating one Daniel... Just like all your poems, I loved this.. And I would say that this one too goes into one of your (according to my understanding) 'ars poeticas'... Wonderful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 1:04:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I read your email and had to read this poem. It's wonderful! I really enjoyed it, thanks Daniel.
Thanks much, Leah. My starting point was my involvement with your JOURNEY poems, In some mysterious way you are the distant journeyer who disappears in the first stanza, or it could be a dream-image of you in a parallel existence. This is not the memory of a journey; rather a foreshadowing of one.