Drew,
Becoming a thing of quiet
is always a tender chance;
Our skin, tendons, bones, and teeth
hum loud with temerity.
True, I’ve lost my trust in songs.
Hakuin, quitting his life,
wrote only one character.
This was expeditious, sure.
So, thank you for the concession.
It slowly and quietly bruised.
Tonight, I’ll forbid talking,
And map out silent things.
Best,
Trevor
2 comments:
I found this intriguing:
True, I’ve lost my trust in songs.
Hakuin, quitting his life,
wrote only one character.
This was expeditious, sure.
I think the reason that this resonates with me is because it points toward a distrust of language. Of course, as a Zen monk, Hakuin most likely scoffed at symbols in general, but still continued to write and paint. While not a Zen monk myself, I still often tussle with the same problematic nature of meaning and symbol, which includes, of course, poetry.
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