The Leaving Song

To the first and the end I've been here.
They smile in silence as the Tay
watches o'er me,
a sole mast at the top of the sea.
Fire washes eyes in the dead-silence
of bird song and bitter-sweet farewells.
I am not ready to move.
For bonnie is the greenish of the law-cresting pine,
silver as sky-reflected sea,
Hollowed are the steeples in grander bristling sway,
The wind is still in the song of the free.

The road on my toes pulls down, grounding me
to my memory so far beneath.
Weighting and waiting is the stride that carries beyond the way.
I bid farewell.
Hearing again the voice of many collected,
it drowns the senses in a pool of chamomile flower.
Once lived, it echoes in empty space only known.

Shall I know the sage of summer?
Can I taste of the mint in your water?
Will the gulls cry for me as I leave
like the ships lost at sea? I will go on.
New in my journey and new in my return.
I will go on, fairing far in farfaring.

Yet now life is distant to this gazing, left in separation
From the rosary dusting from the hook.
Never knowing the height of this land,
It calls me, tells me, yearns me stay.
But I, the wandering child, will never be the same.
I see it here, now, as it deepens in depart,
a stranger to love and land and life.
She turns away unburdened and unknown.
And I do the same,
drooping eyes that never meet.

Falling away from the cradle, branded, marked
By those who could never understand.
Feverish to turn to restoration,
Ever reliant on the flashing of street lights for constancy.
As newness reigns in me,
Transposed by my rambling mind and feet,
Its curse and blessing will not fail.

At the fastest, rising pull of gravity's alite,
I shall see you soon enough.


Have you ever felt something so deeply that it moved you to tears? It could be the beauty in a sunset, saying goodbye to a dear friend, having your heart broken, leaving home, recalling when your child said ‘mommy’ for the first time, winning the big game, or the ending of your favorite book. These are all examples of human moments that poets are all too familiar with. All poetry is the verbal realization of the deep feeling that we receive from our human experience, whether it be elating or painful.

As Robert Frost put it, “Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and that thought has found words.”

Through the many mechanics of poetry that have been developed over the past thousands of years, the art of poetry has become a means of expressing the deep emotional experiences of the poet in such a way that allows the reader to relate to it as well.

This is my hope for you as I share my poetry; not only do I want to share my experiences of nature’s peace, hope in darkness, and truth when our humanness seems to blot it out, but that you may find each of these things for yourself as well.

As a little about me, I’ve been writing poems for about six years now. I remember waking up one night with several rhymes going through my head thinking how desperately I needed to write them down. Over the years it changed from a means of emotional processing to a hobby to something I couldn’t not do.

A year ago, while on study abroad in Scotland, I took a class entitled “Poetry in the World” which transformed both my understanding of poetry and my personal means of expressing it. Since then I’ve grown in both my style and ability. Creating this platform to open my work up to more people seemed like the next best step in terms of growth.

Always a student of life, I hope to continue that growth. If you have any recommendations for poetry books, other blogs, networking opportunities, or even some feedback, please send it my way!

Thank you all in advance for your support. I hope you enjoy my poetry that is soon to come!