DepartureIt's little I care what path I take,And where it leads it's little I care;But out of this house, lest my heart break,I must go, and off somewhere.It's little I know what's in my heart,What's in my mind it's little I know,But there's that in me must up and start,And it's little I care where my feet go.I wish I could walk for a day and a night,And find me at dawn in a desolate placeWith never the rut of a road in sight,Nor the roof of a house, nor the eyes of a face.I wish I could walk till my blood should spout,And drop me, never to stir again,On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out,And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain.But dump or dock, where the path I takeBrings up, it's little enough I care;And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make,Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere."Is something the matter, dear," she said,"That you sit at your work so silently?""No, mother, no, 'twas a knot in my thread.There goes the kettle, I'll make the tea."
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Something in me...
Millay tonight, because I'm in the mood. This is a particular favorite of mine--primarily the first two stanzas. I have often felt that urge to get out, to go, anywhere, just go. I always return. Unlike Millay, I have no romantic notions of a lonely death. I never desire not to return home. I only need an hour or so alone. My preferred method of transportation is the car, as it is the fastest way to escape the city. But this fall I am without a car. The roads are calling to me and I am itching to drive, to explore, and to go. For now, I retreat on foot to the groves and gardens nearby, grateful for trees, river, and the solitude.