Phoning Home
Posted by Rob Kistner | Filed under Poetry
•
in the dream it was so beautiful
radiant and magical
standing in the clearing
glowing like a rainbow
I rolled up full of wonder
on my tried and trusty Huffy
was this a pay phone of promise
a hot line of human hope
could this be ‘the’ help line
the cosmic clear connection
at the end of the universe
humankind’s “one call”
had this ultimate task
fallen fatefully now to me
the chance we’d waited for so long
to right what had gone so wrong
perhaps I deemed it far too heavy
this call for our delivery
maybe it was plain and simple
lift the receiver place the call
perhaps it can be dialed up
ordered in like carry out
with some extra insight
and a bit of empathy on the side
or with this special connection
have it beamed down here to earth
from a mothership high above
the mothership of love
with emboldened anticipation
I eagerly forged ahead
lifted the receiver from the cradle
cupped my ear to better hear
…the line was dead
• • •
rob kistner © 2012
…father observing his grown children suddenly experiences a shift in the paradigm…
•
he sees them
standing in a new light
with a gathered wisdom
built upon years of experience
which happened in his distraction
when he did not see
other than the children
who still held him up as hero
but those young ones died off long ago
he did not see them go
his mind’s eye saw only their abiding need
and innocent dependence
a state he mistook for permanence
but each is now strong
and grounded in their own accord
founded on the people they’ve become
he now is the one with need
as awkward in his dependence
as they, once, in another time
the father is now the child
no more able to wear this mantle
than to solve the challenges
that press in at the flanks
of his clear and stable mind
he is set adrift – lost
without the voice to ask direction
or the resolved courage to cry for help
help he desperately requires
so all is silent and awkward
and slowly pulling apart
while all around
vital love goes unrequested
and unbestowed
because nothing about the process is familiar
and the humility essential, ill fits
and lies discarded
under foot of the besiegers
as rome burns
and all around stand in hesitation
fearful of the feel of changing roles
unable to put the match
to the pyre of the patriarch
not to consume the man
but to reforge the mantle
powerless to ignite the saving fire
the smoke of which
announces a new direction
where those that followed – now lead
and in the leading
step high and strong
to reflect the power of the love
that forged the founding bond
that now will save the man
and rekindle the continuum
• • •
rob kistner © 2012
February 19th, 2012 at 12:43 pm
haha…just our luck for our last call…i like the nod to adams as well…he is a def fav on the bookshelf…just make sure you have your towel….
February 19th, 2012 at 12:50 pm
i like the climax “emboldened” is a great word
meditation station
February 19th, 2012 at 1:21 pm
I love the suspense that you sustain in this poem and the symbolism. Wonderful.
February 19th, 2012 at 1:26 pm
The line was dead.
Ha ha. Of course it was. So it goes with all things we obsess over, contemplate and negotiate until the opportunity, adventure, risk, or concern no longer exists.
February 19th, 2012 at 2:21 pm
You had me holding my breath right ’til the end! Very well done !
February 19th, 2012 at 2:30 pm
Oooo…. For a moment I thought it even might be Dr Who coming to save us all. ;~D
February 20th, 2012 at 6:06 am
could this be ‘the’ help line
the cosmic clear connection
at the end of the universe
humankind’s “one call”
If only!
February 20th, 2012 at 9:02 am
Possibly burning down the phone booth and sending smoke signals?
February 20th, 2012 at 11:00 am
This is a stressful dreamscape you have breathed life into here. So much pondering. I enjoyed the way you used the doubtfulness to build anticipation. It all came to a decisive ending….. a dead line. A restless sleep for sure. Nice insights. Thanks for sharing, Rob.
February 20th, 2012 at 7:44 pm
indeed nice symbolism Rob….thanks for sharing
February 20th, 2012 at 10:04 pm
It’s often the way with these wretched phone booths. Well worked out poem. Thanks, Rob.
February 21st, 2012 at 2:33 am
I see you are as talented as ever Rob:
The line was dead….
Always !
rel
February 21st, 2012 at 1:12 pm
Oh I wasn’t expecting the surprise ending…nice write Rob…
February 21st, 2012 at 3:40 pm
A wonderful build up to the closing line.
Flows so well and the last line brings it to a sudden, stunning stop.
Great work here.
February 21st, 2012 at 7:25 pm
wonderful poem and take on the prompt, Rob– phoning home, indeed. xxxj I’m at http://parolavivace.blogspot.com
February 22nd, 2012 at 6:52 pm
So the big call and the line is dead. And ready to level everything out. Nice.
April 2nd, 2012 at 11:54 am
Wow great poetry! On a bike when you need to call home you really do not want an unanswered phone line …as in like there needs to be a 24/7 connection for help as needed.
Changing Step…I care for my Mom and now the roll is changed more then steps. She is still my mentor and teacher for I know that what I learned from Mom and Dad was the most important part of my education.