IT’S NOT AS IF I DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED TO DO
it’s not as if I don’t know what I need to do.
…………………………………………………… this beautiful old barn. its
owls and mice, musty air, misty pale yellow light
… coming through high windows—
a musical staff, populous motes singing across the lines. here
… a well-shaped note lasts forever.
a blue pigeon, a delicate bat in the highest spire.
feathery wings homing in on the scratching.
old trunks covered in footprints and filled
with handmade wooden toys and treasures, couplets and flasks.
I know what I need to do here. ………….. nothing. ………………… breathe.
………….. no moment,
………………………………….. falling from heaven,
………………………………………………………………. is identical to any other.
it is true my beard is greying.
it is true the river is frozen and tentative eyes
stare upwards through opacity, for a sign.
……………………………………………………… I need do nothing but breathe
… and step forward. accept
the nature of wind and its ineffable soul—
………….. by which is meant ‘time.’
acceptance in the upturned palms.
and generosity: what I am given, what I may give.
muted sun on winter and its black squirrels,
………….. its expansive hushed feet. out there.
and here, in the cavernous barn,
………….. the chapel of all I can remember
it would be easy—and I know those who knew this gospel—
to crumple under the weight of it all.
but I know: stand still and listen.
accept. love. and know, dawn and springtime will
always come. not sorry. not afraid, no sound of should in this old barn
of dust and thoughts and moments from each tense,
drifting down
…………………. through seven lines of light.
Author’s Bio
Noah Zacharin is a performing songwriter and musician with seven CDs of original music. While still in his native Montreal he was also a widely published poet and translator. This is his first submission and publication since moving to Toronto many years ago. More at noahsong.com.