Treasure Island

elysabeth faslund

(11/23/49 / Thibodaux. Louisiana)


Even the hollow reed voices across sand, dry plains,
Startling lilt, notes we can remember.
We can forget. Forgetting is our salvation,
Not reincarnation.
When memory is destroyed, we are spared
Thorns, destiny.
No further life.
Peace be with you.
With you, Father.

To each the choice, known, unknown, of what the
Heart can render. Rending forever, keeping us
Worn, sworn to earth, dust.
Do not erect stones for me, they would keep me
Company. I did not have companionship in
Life, why plague the stones at sunset?
Cover me with thorns, as in life, one reed,
One drum. I clutch music of death,
No salvation, yet reincarnation.
You are in peace. Let me.
Remember me.

Who would leave their bed of winter's night
To light dark's ice with wax candle?
Not you, priest...
Bound by law to the body, not soul's grief
Or expansion.
Bound to limit the soul in one direction.
Denial of reed and drum leads voices,
In canto, to ceilings.
Captured. Tonal.
Never twice on key.

To each a choice...thorn, dulled thorn.
Thorn nonetheless.
Vine. Rose.
What redemption after salvation?
Can salvation be redeemed?
Must it, should it, by who's hand...
Long the vine, short the rose.
Together...vining rose of headstones
Rendering hollowness in winter's
Dark ice.
For you who remember...
A candle.

Submitted: Sunday, February 11, 2007
Edited: Wednesday, January 12, 2011

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Comments about this poem (Allegra* by elysabeth faslund )

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  • Roger Cornish (11/27/2007 2:52:00 PM)

    Leave it with me a while....I'm getting there! I have read it outloud twice..... A wonderful piece, accessable, i'm not sure on the exact wording to discribe it...I'll be in touch!
    Roger X (Report) Reply

  • Alison Cassidy (8/23/2007 8:15:00 PM)

    Wordsworth's poem 'Intimations on Immortality' springs to mind on reading this. An harmonious mingling of personal angst and existential musing. Love the sounds of music in this piece - the follow reeds and drums. They reassure the reader that the ultimate choice is theirs still. And the candle burning in the last line is a ray of optimism in a dark night. Strong, compelling writing. love, Allie xxxxx (Report) Reply

  • Not a member No 4 (5/30/2007 12:17:00 PM)

    Provokes many serious thoughts such as: can the salvation of forgetfulness be redeemed, and if it could, would the result be happiness of value? A strong, existentially based piece of work with many questing and questioning layers. Interesting images abound throughout, and the tone and style are reminiscent of Eliot. This is the kind of work you do very well indeed Elysabeth. It demands careful reading and has a great deal to offer. Excellent. jim xx (Report) Reply

  • Patti Masterman (5/1/2007 2:05:00 PM)

    This is magnificent. Your poems are like silent hymns to life and to death's forgetting.
    'Even the hollow reed...' at least it too can forget. (Report) Reply

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