Friday, August 31, 2007


by Troy Chapman

A baby stares for hours at the mobile over his bed.
The movement color and flashing light entrance him
until suddenly
he sees the brace holding the mobile to the crib
he follows the brace traces the bars
to the leg of the bed and down the leg
to the floor around the room
round and round and out the door
down the stairs flying now through rooms
and space and light and smell and sound
then out
and up up up
to see hills fields rivers continents oceans
unfolding and receding
then round and round the earth
and up again through planets stars
black holes and quasars
galaxies and universes
until he stops

to look back and see himself
still staring at the mobile
reaching out smiling contentedly
and understands
we must leave ourselves to see ourselves clearly
we must come apart to become more whole
we must lose our life to find it.


Anonymous said...

This is such a gift for the end of the summer. Thank you so much.


Sid Leavitt said...

Well, what can I say? Beautiful.

Two questions: 1. Is there anything you don't do well? 2. Are you sure you're not a reincarnation of Rumi?

For those of your readers not familiar with the 13th century Persian philosopher, look him up on the Internet if only to find his poem 'A Star Without a Name.' It has the same expansive power as your latest entry.

Thanks again.