The Poet Poem by Malcolm Evison

That is, if I dare say, my destiny. To grasp
and to expand, each feeling moment. Eternity
not mere renewal. Fearing the used-words

of my thought. My destiny. Are the words mine
to use, is any word, a property. I speak
in fear of loosely spoken

words. My destiny!

***********

Today and alone, I return. To what –
all has changed and still I know it is.
My returning. Home and the word
And the thought of the word. Home, and the skies

are open, and a song
of welcome pounds through my veins. Home,
and my eyes can see the song.

Today. And no more alone. I return.

***************

And night conceals. Not even a whisper is heard.
So silently another dawn – and the fields,
the fields open as if to swallow me. I sit
and remember
(before the night/ another today)
a home. A destiny.

Alive. A sound. A shattering.
A whisper of you
from you for me. All is alive
with sound. The yawning trees, the birds

burst into song – the trees and images
of you. The blossoming and songs.
Songs in my mind and you

beside me. A song. A touch of you
on me; I feel

that you need me (not only I need you)
a sound, a touch – transforming words into
a destiny.





[written sometime between 1969 and 1971) ]