Our World Tuesday: Gilgamesh, Running

As the gray of late winter dissolves into muck and slush and rain, I find myself inside more often than not, though not unhappily as I hear the songs of tufted titmice, black-capped chickadees, and robins filling the cool, damp air with spring.  Meanwhile, though, I think of warm days and sunsets.  The poem below, "Gilgamesh, Running," recalls a pleasant evening with a friend at Orenaug Park here in Woodbury, Connecticut.

Standing on the platform

Of the fire tower at Orenaug Park

I watch in the cool evening air

As Shamash carries the sun away,

Leaving the few drops of fiery ink

To paint the evening sky

Orange in its wake

I think of Gilgamesh running

Through a dark tunnel

For twelve blighted hours

Nonstop for his life

In search of the eternity

Waiting to be unlocked

In his heart

Though he could not know--

Not then.

The hurry?

The sky fire ablaze again

On a new day

Would make its return

Through that very tunnel

Scorching the warrior hero

To death

Without his finding

The answer to 

The one question

That impelled him ever and on:

How to live forever.

The irony?

Cruel teachers savoring life.

He would find the answer

Hearing the Distant One

As he gained understanding 

Through his own failure:

Go home.

Love your life.

Find your greatness 

In your gifts to others.

Maybe write it down.

Be remembered.

With Gilgamesh

My heart follows the sun--

The falling and fading,

Remaining in the pale blue light 

That silences the cry for rest

And would quell the desire 

To go home.

Our World Tuesday