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in memory of Andrea Lewis, 1957-2009

With no away, you can’t get lost or drown.
You can’t just disappear; you’re trapped right here.
This sticky, spidery web still holds its own.
What does it mean when we think far or near?

What do we do when we throw stuff away?
What happens when we flush? What follows what?
The other ends of dreams unfold. You stay
in place, right where you are, yes, you stay put –

or so you think. Imagine how the sun
felt back in feudal days, when we assumed
our earth was flat. Imagine everyone
asleep in such belief. What insight bloomed,

what twilight rose to open people’s eyes?
“I’m up here moving, folks,” the sun might feel.
“How long before you Christians realize
there’s more than gold that shines? Light shines for real.”

And where does sunlight go? What does it do?
Light feeds each breath we take, light circulates
and in its round-and-round produces you
and me and everything that jumps or waits.

Away, away, away — what does it mean?
To fly away means sailing out of sight,
but who or what is racing from whose scene?
Perspective reigns. Day never knows it’s night.

— Al Young

© 2009 by Al Young

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 at 1:02 pm and is filed under Poems and Lyrics. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.