The Vezere river / South/West France
OF THE RIVER AND TIME: So We Come and We Go
I
And in this each they did knowThat within the deeps of winter nightQuiet wisdom comes from sorrow,Surrender, consolation, then daylight
II
So far back before growing oldLosing time and losing friendsAlmost losing ourselves we are toldWe came into this valley, took residence
If others had been in this placeBefore us, so green surrounded by forestSo quiet, the trickle of water . . . .Thereby, knowing them only in the traceof their horses drawnAlong the walls of that side canyondeeper up the glen, followthe trickle of the little meanderand murmur to where the rill and springseep out of the mountainLooking up you’ll see a tide of horsesSo graced with nobility and wonderSo drawn from out of the mountainThey run for the sheer joy of runningWe are all of us tributariesto the river, and this beginningthing of reverence
We were the People of the Needle & ThreadRode upon horses so far up aheadCame to the crossing of the oak and the beechSewing together the wildwood turned crowspeech
There were those few who crossed the dividein the Before TimesAnd never came back, the river so wide,that Time was born in that spacebetween then and now, turningLooked to the mysterious moon wondering
Needle and thread, needle and threadWe sewed and we sewed, stitchingTogether hide and bark to make warmThat our skin would not be winter shivering
And here we lived for many yearsCaught and struck between sewing the skyTo the cliffs together with the smokeOf our ever-burning campfires
III
What you wear is how you moveSplashing shadows of the fire flickeringOn the walls taught us how to dance
IV
I’d not take him to be seenBy mortal eyes afraid to gleamHe that absorbs moonlight and reflectsThe goodness innate of all who come subjectTo our natural ways, so gloamingGlorious the evening rays, so catchingDoes this light twinkle on the wingsOf butterflies and the leaves, weLay down upon the grassAnd have our night be rested andEaseful clockwise roundaboutThus we have the gift of sleep
V
And here we shall be with you alwaysBeneath this stone in this grassy valeInscribed to the sun, it reads:Existing in TimeJust for a MomentI’ll be back with my booksWhen the tide is glimmering
VI
Now we can make telephone callsfrom moving carsListen to a symphony on ear budswhile riding a bikeRide a pogo stick whilereciting the alphabetEverything picked up speedBut hasn’t that always been the case?Things have moved right alongSince our veriest fireWe’ve rode the crest of thisCurtain of clouds like a stampedeOf reindeer up along the tundraI looked up that river, once,For my friendswho never came back
—-Mark Weber
April 2o18
I was thinking of the Ice Age cultures that lived in the Vezere River Valley 20,000 years ago when I wrote this (they lived there 40,000 – 10,000) ——- also, I was also toying with the idea of writing in octosyllabic alliterative easy-rhyme Anglo Saxon poems (what I call 4+4) but wasn’t exactly successful, but, it’s okay, no? (Klaus picked out this perfect photo)
A really wonderful piece, no explanation necessary. 4×4 is good for holding your fence up, 4+4 is the fence after the bugs eight it up but it can give you a break you can trade with your friends.
wow, I didn’t want it to end. I kept cycling back, and reading and rereading it. It drew me into that rounder time. I resonate with so many words and phrases and that magical phase of time, seeming without end, that landed us here and now. fires flickering on cave walls teaching us to dance! Yes. My grandmother had the lightest touch on the piano and used to play a song called In the Gloaming – it always fascinated me. What was the gloaming?? I love your ancestral voice, Mark. I half expect you to speak the way you write, and with an incomprehensible accent!
Really Beautiful …!!!
beautiful, Mark.. so serene and beautiful to “see”….
Yea, man!
Mark, this poem is stunning, one of your all-time greats. Wow!