Journey to the Cradle of Hemingway

To muse
To travel
To come unstuck in time
Relieved of the burden of continuity
Pause in the passage
listen for the echoes
Reflect upon the questions in the window’s pane
Is the child the father of the man
Earnest Hemingway

On that unseasonal Michigan morning
See them floating by the crib
Not the fairy god mothers of Cinderella
but the disquieting muses
Of the coming Atomic Age
The witch of Mount Ember
The Ancient Mariner
The Sun
the Moon and the Stars

Linger a moment
Drift about the room
Touch the dust
on the crib
Were there tigers on your sheet
And in your chest
A boat
a fish
A little Indian maid
made of lead
Did you play cowboys with toy guns
Hunt wild beasts behind the curtains
Peer out the window
waiting for Dad

Leave it there
The silence
in a silent room
For all journeys end in silence
Which is both unfair and profound

Leave it there
this cradle of a master
This monument

But do not leave him there
Snatch a bit of cobweb
A shred of shadow
Fold the memory like
hands in prayer
Like a wedding napkin
And keep it against the Darkness

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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