Old Song of Youth

author’s note:

Do not resist the rose
lest you burn in its fire.
        -- Gabriela Mistral (trans. L. Hughes)


OLD SONG OF YOUTH

The poets of old were right:
spring does indeed sing
in the zesty blood of youth.

I remember a spring day years ago--
oh how I tried to ignore
that playful song
and focus on my schoolwork.

But then the rhapsody raised its pitch--
crying of sex, yes, but something more than sex.
So I stopped to listen
and began to feel
the bright green of spring
singing in my blood.

But though my spirit begged for expression
I fastened my mind and body down--
down!

Sitting here, decades later
I chide that starved student in my head--
telling him
he should’ve surrendered
and run through the blazing green fields.

But I’m cut short
as a breeze gushes
through the window--
in the rush
I swear I hear that dizzy kid whisper:
I’m still in your heart.

Suddenly
I feel the wild green song
move in my blood again--
no, not as fresh now
but with age comes a richer shade.

Today unlike yesterday
I’ll sing along--
I will go out into the spring field.

No, I can’t gallop as I once did
but the confinement of slower steps
will give me the time needed
to feel and to sing a deeper song.

mythsteps · Old Song of Youth

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