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Odin odin@aflx.com

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Books
· Perceptions

· ECHOSIS

· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1

· 3 WAY MIRROR


Short Stories
· Patience Waning

· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)

· A Gentle Man

· Pacing Love's Journey

· Gratitude

· A Sticky Conversation

· Blazing Now and Then

· Vulnerable Captivity

· The Kite That Would Not Bow

· Time


Articles
· War and Peace

· Desperation Breeds Desperation

· Preference Manifest

· Innocent Guilt

· Barbed Isolation

· A Place...

· Sanity's Loss

· Organs Anonymous

· Fatuous Beyond Absurdity

· Truth is One


Poetry
· The Life-long Pernicious Evil

· Cherishing Sounds of Silence

· Understanding the Unexplainable

· Reality of Another Kind

· Finding Trust Again

· Aromalicious Memories

· A Jungle-rain Pastorale

· Sediment Within the Soul

· Life's Enormous Green Chest

· Roadkill Memoriam

         More poetry...

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To Finally Breathe Again

by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com

With so much violent death in the world, one is easily compelled to ponder the why of it all. Regardless of one’s belief system, perhaps the answer is to transcend any supernatural or scientific speculation of what is and consider what isn’t…yet. (Image by Samy Charnine)

Thursday, September 4, 2014


Poem Artwork
To Finally Breathe Again
by Odin Roark

What will it be like,
This shuffle for a last breath,
This moment pondering
From where our final card
Came from,
Is going to?

Why must such contemplation
Mirror childhood into adolescence,
Adulthood’s painful maturity,
Retirement’s losing hand?

Oh, the clinging,
The stakes all in,
The air becoming thin.

Do we fear such a breath will disclose
We’ve played our game poorly,
Now having to concede to an infinite universe
That needs never reveal its face-down card?

Perhaps the supreme fold is to exhale our selfness,
Allow a quiet tempest of inexorable existence
To shuffle another deck of chance
Wager the next round without fear
Throw down the high and low with honor,
Give integrity its final due,
And maybe…
Just maybe…
Allow conscience to finally breathe again.


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Reviewed by Michael True
Reviewed on September 8, 2014
Perhaps the problem is that we too easily recognize the cards and fall victim to their inherent curse, chance. Personally, I think "shoots and ladders" is more fun and probably a more accurate metaphor for my life. M.True

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on September 5, 2014
Somehow I can't relate your poem to your statement about so much violent death. In nature's hierarchy, most death is violent. It's a natural part of the food chain when an entity becomes too old to function strongly, it is most often, violently consumed, either by something higher up on the food chain, or gradually from some minute parasite chewing at the edges of existence.

I think we can all go out knowing that we did the best we could do and didn't understand everything, but accept what happened to us as part of the normal course of events. Spiritualists would say that it was, "preordained." I would prefer to say that it was just part of the survival crapshoot we call life.

Ron

Reviewed by Richard Cederberg
Reviewed on September 5, 2014
A skimming response. Everyone, Odin, plays their game poorly at one time or another. Some people never live their lives effectively. Still... Nature is a formidable teacher and effectively answers many of humanity's philosophical, and spiritual, questions, and also shows us much about our Creator IF we have eyes to see it. There's a reason why the roots of (most) trees and flora are in the ground and generally hidden from view. Notwithstanding erosion, which can uncover roots, and which in and of itself is a fine spiritual metaphor, real life and haleness (or, as you posit, integrity) is not something we can conjure, intellectualize, or wish into existence. It comes from a place we cannot see. Before we can ever really "exhale our selfness" we have to fully acknowledge the true source of spiritual and physical haleness.
Because...

In mans creation nothing is at it seems, and
striving is only whimsy. What we wish to
accept as true, WE CREATE, and freely embellish
as classic oils enthrall the eyes, doing so as perfect storms
inundate the shorelines and realign the garden in
rhombus rights
to craft the illusion that
just maybe we are notable, or notorious enough,
to be a front-runner in a superficial world going mad

Integrity? Something that has all but vanished, it seems, in a modern world

Reviewed by Mr. Ed
Reviewed on September 5, 2014
Your excellent graphics are always as good as your poems.

Reviewed by Ruan Mills
Reviewed on September 5, 2014
That right there is potent food for thought ...Scary but compelling.
Rx


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