A Sunday Afternoon Poem

There Is No Sorrow But The Sorrow

Let us rest here, beside still waters, at riverside, where still waters flow. . .
In a country without beginnings a man must create his own images of the things he knows
Before he can rest and begin to make his own endings.
Beside still waters, where still waters flow
He will go as a deer with stealth into the forests of his shadow.
He will go and not resist. He will go to be startled, he will be startled by the light
In eyes that receive him, in the darkness that perceives him he will go
And none will know where he begins or ends as he flows in the liquid of his body.
He will go and it will be as though he was never there, as though the deer was his hidden soul
For which there is no cure, no resolution. It will be as though the deer was never here
In the darkness, near the river, where still waters flow. . .

~Lee H. McCormack

Lee H. McCormack recently received recognition from the 162 member Martha's Vineyard Poetry Society as the Island's first Martha's Vineyard Poet Laureate.
Congratulations to Lee from MVPatch.