A knife, a fork, a plate, a spoon
and muted chatter to be consumed
as meat, delicately sliced from the bone –
What did I not do, that found me here,
so far from home?
For Kim's Weekend Challenge: And the days are not full enough.
That’s one way of just doing it, Kerry, setting off without thinking about it and seeing where it takes you. I thinking counting is sometimes cathartic. I love the phrase ‘muted chatter to be consumed’ and the part rhyme of bone and home.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kim. I have these moments of introspection.
DeleteThis is beautifully evocative!❤️ Love the leap of faith and hint of wistfulness in this one, Kerry. "What did I not do, that found me here, so far from home?" Sigh ..❤️
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure if it is a leap of faith or its loss, Sanaa. Thank you.
DeleteNailed it. What indeed.
ReplyDeleteMany years ago, a friend told me I would always be filled with divine discontent. He wasn't wrong.
DeleteWow. Just terrific. Really wonderful poem, Kerry. k.
ReplyDeleteMy thanks, for coming over to read it.
DeleteI had to stop to think, when I finished reading this one. I thought and thought... but couldn't recall any time I've asked myself that final question. I wonder why.
ReplyDeleteHm... I suspect your expertly delivered poem and I will spend some time pondering today.
Because you are in the right place. I am in the place where I stopped moving forward. So it goes.
DeleteThe visual of the food and the chatter made me think of prison... and maybe (at times) life is exactly that.
ReplyDeleteIn the end I can almost feel a prisoner might ask that exact question.
What an interesting reading! Thank you, Bjorn.
DeleteProfound write Kerry- and an excellent question...
ReplyDeleteSuch a haunting question........being far from home is so often the human condition. I spent many years like that.
ReplyDeleteSome of us wander, some of us wonder, some of us know.
ReplyDeleteThis feels sad. It put me in mind of nursing homes (rather than Bjorn's prison) but I didn't necessarily think you meant that. It could just as well be someone in the midst of a family situation ... or alone. In any case, it's a beautifully realised poem, conveying so much in the unsaid.
ReplyDeletethe whole idea of words being consumed (like) meat - got me to thinking how many times we devour and consume our food without even tasting it - or eat too much when we really only need it for nourishment - and become bloated and fat. Don't say grace before we eat, aren't thankful but more expecting. Gosh, and we wonder why we are in such a mess. Really cool poem....
ReplyDeletescalpel-sharp; elegant melancholy ~
ReplyDeleteOh, it can be anguishing to mull over this question — the things that we did right and yet we missed something that we find ourselves in such a spot.
ReplyDeleteThe meal and the chatter sound homely but "so far from home" and that pricks. Very well penned, Kerry!