Poem III
Piano play
Like a heron, like a hawk I watch
in the most inquisitive of my moods
keith jarrett and his piano take me to the mountains, ocean
waves,
how did I say it so well the other day,
the slush and splash of birth,
non-ceasing ocean child making moves?
Is this then the innocence you do not wish to lose?
what thought is this you do not wish to grasp,
what innocence is this you mourn
what infancy you do not wish revisited?
what death you do not wish to die,
what boom boom of what bombs
you do not wish to remember?
what fight, what war against what cancer,
what armament, what killing of what deer, invasive tree,
armed deal against what profit, sale’s tax, income,
swimming pool, seed bank?
what friend or enemy
what dirt you do not wish to turn?
in your very own innocence?
Is this then what you lost?
a slight discomfort, a crooked tie,
a shoe of not perfect fit,
a spot in paint,
a bit of rust, a stain,
a child astray?
some care
and management
some distance
and once again
as wise as old
as age and vintage wine
as improvised
as jazz piano play
to be of innocence?
Erica Weick 2003
