The Art of Storm-Riding (Original Poem)
The Art of Storm-riding
I could not decipher the living riddle of my body
put it to sleep when it hungered, and overfed it
when time came to dream
I nearly choked on the forked tongue of my spirit
between the real and ideal, rejecting the one
and rejected by the other
I still have not mastered that art of storm-riding
without ears to apprehend howling winds
or eyes for rolling waves
Always the weather catches me unawares, baffled
by maps, compass, stars and the entire apparatus
of bearings or warning signals
Clutching at driftwood, eyes screwed shut, I tremble
hoping the unhinged night will pass and I remember
how once I shielded my flame.
© Yahia Lababidi
Images: Pixabay
... And yet we are living unabated :). Possibly because of dilemma your poem is about. Upvoted and resteemed, obviously.
I wonder what you mean by living unabated and what you think the dilemma my poem is about?
Well, life is pulsating within, as well as is puslating inside us :) . For me, what this dilemma is all about? It is a choice between potential benefits of inner struggles and inner peace without them. Ugh, i am not entirely at ease with interpreting poems, though i did it thousands times ;) .
Thanks, for indulging me. It’s a very private poem, but I was curious to hear what you made of it. Obviously, I’m poetry, there is no one correct answer 🙏🏼
Welcome. Some would say, there is no privacy in digital era, and yet in poetry there is still one. In that sense, poetry is cosily reclusive.
''How once I protected my flame'', good, great!! amazing your post
Can I ask what that line means to you?
What I think goes hand in hand with the context of poetry, '' my flame '' may be what we protect, our essence, I saw it in two ways; innocence and the soul. The sweet poetry shows a person who is carried away by their owners to ward off torments. From Venezuela, edo Lara, greeeeetings!!
Beautiful answer, thank you 🙏🏼