THE MAN WHO NEEDED NO ONE
Sep 13 2011 Filed in: Poem
THE MAN WHO NEEDED NO ONE
He wanted to need no one, not
love or thirst, not even sunrise
and the sweet amulets of water
that fall from the heavens.
No, he wanted to be an island
of self-sufficiency, to sleep
with his arms around the pillow,
a jack-in-the-pulpit alone on his throne
in the damp woods, singing to himself
beneath his curled umbrella.
And this is how he lived for many years—
a solitary song, a soliloquy
spoken into the small mirror
that hung above the wash basin,
with its blue towel and basket of dead flowers.
But something remained wrong—
a dull ached whispered from below his voice
where his heart should have been, a seed
rumbled in the pit of his stomach as if to suggest
a tree that had never grown, a stone skimming
the surface of water once and then sinking.
He grew old this way, never knowing
it had been need he had needed all along—
the sound of his own small voice
asking for a light to see by, a match
to retrieve his heart with from the widening dark.
~Michael Blumenthal
He wanted to need no one, not
love or thirst, not even sunrise
and the sweet amulets of water
that fall from the heavens.
No, he wanted to be an island
of self-sufficiency, to sleep
with his arms around the pillow,
a jack-in-the-pulpit alone on his throne
in the damp woods, singing to himself
beneath his curled umbrella.
And this is how he lived for many years—
a solitary song, a soliloquy
spoken into the small mirror
that hung above the wash basin,
with its blue towel and basket of dead flowers.
But something remained wrong—
a dull ached whispered from below his voice
where his heart should have been, a seed
rumbled in the pit of his stomach as if to suggest
a tree that had never grown, a stone skimming
the surface of water once and then sinking.
He grew old this way, never knowing
it had been need he had needed all along—
the sound of his own small voice
asking for a light to see by, a match
to retrieve his heart with from the widening dark.
~Michael Blumenthal