Jo – Page 6 – The Harbor Of A Restless Mind

November 1, 2021December 21, 2022

The Travelers

It came to Gail like a sweet dream that night. A memory of a better time. A different time. They had been so young. Avery had just managed to grow a few inches taller than Gail. It was her first month on the streets. The dampness of the city was what bothered her the most. There was no dry land to settle down on. She was sure she’d catch a cold within the first week.

The pavement was damper than Gail had been expecting. Clammy fabric clung to her skin. A shiver ran through her, unsolicited. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her threadbare shrug tightly around her shoulders.

“Cold?” Avery smirked, while trembling himself.

“What’s it to you?” Gail snapped with as much spite as she could muster though clenched teeth.

Avery sat down next to her, radiating heat, inviting, tempting, scarce heat. Gail scooted towards him.

“Uh-uh!” Avery put up a lean finger,“Ask nicely.”

Gail scowled. “Avery.”

The latter smiled attentively.

“Sweet Avery.” Gail swallowed her pride,“Be a dear and don’t let me freeze to death.”

Avery considered it. “You can do better.”

Gail scowled. Gathering what was left of her dignity, Gail peeled herself off of the pavement. Her limbs moved lethargically. “Avery-”

Avery waited, amused.

“I swear,” Gail took a shaky breath, “When my fist thaws,” The words turned to mist before her, “I’ll plant it between your eyes—”

He was giggling now. “C’mere.”

Avery’s arm fell heavily around her shoulders. He smelled like week old body odor, but to be fair, she did too. She let him know, nonetheless.

“You’re a real dear, you know that?” He pulled her closer, still laughing.

The sun was setting in front of them. Its rays refracted, aiming to burn her retinas. Rather than squinting, she closed her eyes all together. When the red passed from the back of her eyelids, she opened her eyes. Avery was peering down at her, a fly in her peripheral. Looking up, she met his eye. For a moment, the world went quiet and all she could hear was the heavy “thump” of his heart. A labored note against her eardrum.

“Where do we go from here?”

He rolled his eyes,“Do you always need to have places to be?”

“And people to see,” She affirmed, resting her head more comfortably against his shoulder.

“Close your eyes for a while, Gail,” Avery did the same,“The people can wait.”

If there were any people left for her to see, she doubted they could afford to wait, but she closed her eyes nonetheless.

October 25, 2021January 21, 2022

Lone

The wind blew through Mai’s hair. Sand rushed past her toes when she wiggled them. To her left, the waves crashed desperately against the shore, only to be dragged back into open sea by the currents. Someone kicked, from behind, at the soft spot on the back of her knees. She knelt on the sand, having no reason to stand back up. Her palms sank into the soft sand. Succumbing to its invite, she leaned in, until the warm grains pressed against her cheeks.

Someone laughed. She looked up to see them run before her. Someone else called for her to follow, and for a moment she almost got up to pursue her company. But she waited for too long and that made all the difference. For just a moment too long, she stayed put in the sand, allowing it to pour over her, against the howling wind.

Maybe she would wait, and they’d return to fetch her. Maybe they won’t. The seconds poured in, the laughter grew to a distant echo and all she could hear was the desperate crash of the waves inching its way closer to her lying form. Growing closer by the second, never to reach her.

October 4, 2021July 28, 2022

Cold Room

The room went Cold, or was getting Cold rather. It wasn’t sudden, the Cold was asserting its dominance over the room steadily. It crawled into the crooks and crannies of the room, leaving no crevice untouched. It allowed the room to keep no secrets from it. It filled the room until all Gail could feel was the Cold.

Gail walked over to the window to close the curtains, but a voice requested against it. The voice belonged to the slender masculine figure that sat at the foot of her bed. His eyes were drained, not of color but of another feature that when lacked causes the appearance of lifelessness.

Perhaps agency?

“Avery.” Gail greeted, “What are you doing here?” She talked over her shoulder, closing the window all the while.

“No Abigail,” Avery frowned, “Keep the curtains open.”

Gail let them slide from her hands.

“I haven’t seen the moon in a while.” Avery went on, “He’s been keeping me inside a lot lately.”

“Who has?” Gail made her way to him.

“The warden himself,” Avery seemed to be fixated on the way the moonlight hit the dust that waltzed casually across the damp air in her bedroom. Gail once learned that this random motion was caused by diffusion, which in turn was caused by an energy imbalance. Or at least that’s how she understood it. The figure examined the dust particles in a manner that suggested that to him, the movement was anything but random. He seemed to be waiting for it to reveal the secrets engraved into its fine grains. “He’s got a chip on his shoulder, Robert.” Avery continued, “I think I’ve made him very angry. Can I stay here tonight?”

“What did you do?” Gail took her seat beside him at the foot of the bed.

“What didn’t I do?” Avery glanced at her with a smirk before returning his focus to the dust.

“Avery,” Gail demanded sternly, taking his face in her hands to force his eyes into hers, “What did you do?”

“Abigail,” He took her face in his hands. With a grin spread ear to ear he asked, “What didn’t I do?”

Shrugging out of his hands, she demanded, “Why are you here Avery?”

“I had a bad dream,” he replied transparently, “I needed company. Can I stay with you tonight? Robert’s no fun these days.”

“When was Robert ever fun?” Gail teased, avoiding the topic of Avery staying here. She was adamant about getting all her facts straight before allowing her guest to stay.

Avery remained quiet, sensing Gail’s reluctance to answer her.

“Tell me about your dream,” Gail diverted the conversation.

Avery shook his head. “I want to take you there,” Avery stated, “May I?”

Gail nodded, and followed the homeless boy to the window. Her palms clammed at the sight of the drop to the ground, but she crawled out nonetheless, one limb after the other and followed him into the darkness.

March 10, 2020September 28, 2021

Seed

Sage wished she could go back to a different time, a simpler time perhaps, and live life from there. Maybe, with what she knows now, she would be able to keep life simple. Sage would not need to open her eyes to the ugly truths that exist before her. If that were the case, she would have never gained knowledge. In the absence of new knowledge, growth becomes stunted. The world discards that which could not grow and keep pace with its changes. A stubborn seed that will not sprout will fail to become a tree.

Sage does not need to agree with this world to understand it. Understanding is simply a means of learning how to survive. On its own it is useless. Sage must utilise it to navigate this world without allowing it to consume her. She would like to believe that is one of the most important things that she learned from this world: to understand something that is disagreeable without hating it.

Once, when Sage was a child, she lived without consciously understanding life.Sage might have been about ten. It was at that age that a conscious being awoke within her and decided that it desired to experience this world. Sage believes that is where childhood begins to die. Its decay is a slow and painful process, one that Sage believes is coming to an end soon. What comes after? Sage does not know.

Until that delicate age, however, Sage was in a blissful state of dormancy. She was like a seed held and protected within a fruit. All fruits fall from its tree and begin its slow and painful decay. The seed then finds itself in the midst of detritivores and dirt. It must be trampled on and pushed into the dirt to discover its true destiny.

February 17, 2020September 28, 2021

Rational

No irrational emotions. Completely collected and calm in public. Mature when interacting with all company. Only your select social circle is privileged to hear your clever notes of humor. Of course, there is not a place for one of the common folk, such as Sage, in such a circle. She really should not know that such a side of you exists. No, in front of Sage you will be calm, collected, and mature.

Sage looks up to see you hold your head high above her. Your eyes remain fixated in a distant nothingness. Her attempt to discover what keeps your attention is unfruitful. So she stands expectantly beneath you, but you will not lower your eyes to her standards. Do you fear the sight of her will taint you in some way? The air you breath must be of a better quality than that spared for Sage.

It is difficult to get your attention. She wants you to see all the good that she can offer, but you refuse to lend your attention when the occasion calls for it. She wonders if she will ever be anything more than one of the masses that drowns beneath each other as they drift past you. Tell her how she has come to earn the title of irrelevance.

Perhaps the fault is hers. Has she not offered you the joys and pains of being acquainted with her? For too long, she has been fixated on the idea of you. She permitted nothing to interfere with this vision of what you could be. A word uttered too loudly might break this illusion. This fear of corruption repels her. You must remain this rational, emotionless being. You must remain a figure to be looked up to. That is her mistake, for which she will be sincerely sorry.

She will try harder next time. Of the next peer she will make a friend. Over the next fear, she will gain victory. The next goal will be pursued until the end. It is time to give up on you, however. It is too late to try with you. Time had grown tired of lending her its seeds. It gained no harvest and thus is displeased.

January 15, 2020July 16, 2021

An Analysis of “Loveliest of Trees,” by A.E.Housman

A.E. Housman uses the cherry blossom tree in his poem “Loveliest of Trees” as a symbol of the temporary nature of youth and beauty. This tree has a short blooming period in which its beautiful flowers present themselves in pink bundles. This is akin to the youth of a person in its brief and irretrievable nature . As Housman points out, “Twenty will not come again”(Housman, 1896). The cherry blossom tree is described as being decorated with “bloom” that hangs along its “bough,” implying a sense of intentionality in their appearance. A “bloom” is a flower that is cultivated. This word choice further implies that there is a deliberate reason behind the existence of the cherry tree. The cherry blossom tree is described to be “[standing] about the woodland ride”(Housman, 1896) . This personifies the tree and implies that the tree was not simply planted in a location against its will. Rather, it chooses to stand there. Housman creates visual imagery in mentioning the trees are standing “about the woodland ride,” almost as if they were divine beings standing guard over that path. This idea of divinity is further emphasized in the trees being clothed in “white for Eastertide.” In mentioning the trees are “wearing” white, Housman also personifies these trees to give them agency. In the Christian calendar, Easter time is represented with white: the color for purity and resurrection. It is also worth mentioning that the season that cherry blossoms bloom – Spring- is the same season that Easter falls on. The poet alludes to the Bible, which states that the average lifespan of a human in seventy years. By mentioning that the twenty years that passed will not come again, Housman structures his language in a manner that emphasizes the loss of those twenty years. Housman also gives time a physical quantity by mentioning that “fifty springs are little room”(Housman, 1896) .

A.E. Housman rhymes every two lines of his poem “Loveliest of Trees,” making this poem a couplet. This gives the poem a neat rhyme scheme that follows an orderly pattern. Each set of rhymes has its own sound that is not repeated again. For instance, lines one and two rhyme with “now” and “bough”, a sound that is not used again to end a line. This is parallel to the idea, discussed by Housman, that time will not repeat itself again. Each pair of rhymes has a beauty that can only be enjoyed once. The next pair presents its own beauty that will not resemble the one that passed, much like the stages in life. The neat and orderly sound this rhyme scheme provides is parallel to the nature of time, which can be quantified into “scores”(Housman, 1896). The poem does not keep a consistent meter, but overall it resembles an iambic tetrameter. This means that each line has eight syllables, or four pairs of syllables. The first line of each stanza breaks this rule by having nine syllables rather than eight. By doing this, Housman intentionally breaks the meter to signify how the subject’s ride through the woods was a break from his normal course of life.

In his poem “Loveliest of Trees,” A.E. Housman teaches that one will not have enough time to enjoy life if he/she chooses to only enjoy it at appropriate times. This is signified in the fact that “fifty springs are little room” to enjoy the cherry blossom trees (Housman, 1896). Hence, the subject of the poem decides to go visit the tree during the unconventional season of winter when the tree is “hung with snow” (Housman, 1896). Housman teaches that one must enjoy life by putting emphasis on the fact that time will not repeat itself. He explicitly states it in the second line of the second stanza “time will not come again” (Housman, 1896). He reinforces this idea in his rhyme scheme, where no pair of rhymes is repeated. Hence both the rhyme and the age of 20 can only be enjoyed once. The cherry blossom tree can also be a metaphor for a person. One cannot only be present in his/her friend’s life when all is going well for the friend. Whether the friend is in a phase of “bloom” or “snow”, one must be present in the friend’s life. Housman points out that one does not know how much time s/he has to spend with her/his friends. Housman emphasizes in the first line that the cherry tree is now hung with its bloom, hence one can only admire its bloom in the present. Yet, the tree remains the loveliest of trees even during its dormant seasons. The tree does not lose its loveliness when it is not blossomed. In a similar way, people do not become inherently bad simply because they do bad things. Housman’s allusions to Christianity, in mentioning the biblical lifespan of a human- seventy years- and the reference to “wearing white for Eastertide” implies that he is teaching the Christian philosophy through this poem. The idea that corruption, or sin, does not make one inherently bad is one of the main Christian philosophies. The tree goes through a cycle of restoration, just as people do, in the Christian faith, though confession.

January 6, 2020January 30, 2022

When Break Ends

Break has ended. Going back to school feels like returning to a hometown that I have not been to in a few years. The faces that roam the hall seem familiar, yet distant. The energy in the room is always uncomfortable. Noone wants to be here, yet here we are.

I am reminded in simple ways that I have been living out a blissfully irresponsible existence for the past two weeks. In opening my camera roll, I see the seemingly never ending list of vacation photos and petty selfies that still capture the joyful freedom that came to pass. I look into my own eyes to see if the joy they held was genuine. It was.

The blissful existence has momentarily paused, it is true, but I am not completely saddened by the fact. This form of existence finds its value in its scarcity and I, for one, am glad to give it more value by leaving it. As I am sitting at school, I try not to long for it too desperately. It is more enjoyable when it comes to me as a surprise. When a long week of exams has ended and I look up to see several weeks of blissful irresponsibility ahead of me, I realize my patience did not go in vain.

December 17, 2019April 28, 2020

An Analysis of “The Widow’s Lament in Springtime,” by William Carlos Williams

In his poem “The Widow’s Lament in Springtime,” William Carlos Williams uses visual imagery, by inverting the connotation of the color white -from being passive and pure to representing death- to portray the delicate side of mourning. The white plum trees and flaming new grass are among the first clues that Williams presents that identify the season in which the poem takes place: spring. Williams juxtaposes the external environment of the subject of the poem with the internal feelings of the subject by placing the mourner in spring time- a period traditionally associated with rebirth and joy. Williams uses tactile imagery in describing the grass as cold and fiery. The cold being fiery is contrary to what the sense of touch typically registers. By using this contrast, Williams projected the internal coldness that the widow felt onto the external surroundings. The intensity of the cold was so great that it burned, much like hypothermia. Williams uses kinesthetic imagery when speaking of the widow sinking into the march. The act of sinking is associated with passivity. The use of this form of imagery concludes the poem with the passive helplessness that the widow feels as she sinks into her own despair.

In his poem “The Widow’s Lament in Springtime,” William Carlos Williams presents, what he believed was the perspective of a lamenting widow. The widow in the poem found no happiness in the cherry blossom trees that “were [her] joy/ formerly,” (Williams, 17-18). She had a living son who was seemingly not as depressed as she is, as he was capable of leaving his house to go to the meadows. This implies how Williams believed a woman should react to losing her husband and how that differs from a son reacting to losing his father. Despite still having her son, the widow seems to have lost all sources of joy in life and wanted to pursue a passive death via sinking into the marsh. This portrays how Williams believes a woman should and would react to the death of her husband.

November 17, 2019September 28, 2021

Rain

Morning broke to the rage of a storm. Sage watched the raindrops roll down her window pane in what appeared to be barrels. She always positioned her head in a manner that allowed her to have a view of the window. It helps her fall asleep- the gentle swaying of the trees without- and sleep is perhaps the only treasure she cherished.

That morning, it was the rain water sputtering through the cracks between the window panes that awoke Sage. The droplets brought with it fragments of the various substances that sought refuge in the gaps between the panes and the damp mold stained window frame. Sage wiped the few droplets that landed on her skin onto her threadbare blanket. Her gaze returned to the raindrops that fell from the sky and landed on the glass before her. She focused her attention on a single drop of rain that landed on the pane and refrained from racing down the pane to its own destruction.

The image of the world through this raindrop was blurred and upside down. It seemed more comprehensible this way, the world, when it was categorized into an assortment of nonsensical colors and shapes. Through the raindrop, the world lost its sharpness and devolved into a passive haze.

A sigh grew weary in her lungs and let itself out. She pulled her blanket closer to her face and allowed its cool fabric to graze against her face. A sharp jab traveled across her shoulder, but it failed to persuade her to shift the weight of her body off of it. The rain had captivated her attention, it called to her to watch it dance across the window panes. The jab gradually matured to a persistent ache, but it could not divert her attention. Her focus shifted from the single raindrop to the divers cluster that settled on the pane. Each with a uniquely difficult path that laid before it.

October 28, 2019April 28, 2020

An Analysis of “Spring,” by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Before having read “Spring” by Gerard Manley Hopkins, I assumed the poem would be based around a pleasing description of the season of spring. In his poem, Hopkins glorifies every aspect of spring as a fragment of Eden from the weeds to the “glassy pear-tree leaves” (Hopkins, 6). Spring could be a poem focused around the religious argument about the beauty of God being reflected in that of his creation: nature. It may also be interpreted as a poem about the purity of creation before it was soured with sin.

Through his poem “Spring,” Gerard Manley Hopkins teaches one to appreciate the minute miracles present in the natural world. He portrays even a common weed as a beautiful characteristic of the springtime by categorizing them in the same subset that, the more favorable, “pear tree leaves and blooms” belong to(Hopkins, 6). Hopkins portrays nature as an object of purity and mankind as beings capable of both purity and of corruption through “sour[ing] with sin”(Hopkins, 12). This provides as a warning for people to turn away from corruption and observe a lifestyle of innocence like nature.