The Reserve
O silence… let the departed rest, unsaid,
here is the whisper…
and there’s a pale stag in rut, a dream half-fed,
unaware, transgressing the legends’ thread.
Lads in the mire, beneath celestial wings,
storm the graveyard old when twilight swings,
no words, just gasps in throats aching,
fearless hearts in innocence, still breaking.
Deer carve through paths, a diagonal plight,
and in the shadowed woods –
let not ill words touch the deceased’s light,
Hence for living — everything and every height.
To whom and where did hearts unfurl?
Who hung a fleece, a snowy pearl,
with antlers keen, like a razor’s slice,
drew legend’s blood, a tale precise.
Orchards swell, the sky in hues profound,
elderly eyes, like once, chapel-bound,
seek angels, chastise the youthful market,
where once permitted, now ill words target.
Today, the aged endure disdain,
tomorrow… memories shall wane,
only the stag, in a slumber’s reserve,
shall hush the violated lore’s nerve.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
*
“The Reserve” for me is a profound odyssey, an intricate exploration of memory, the ebb and flow of generations, and the interplay of tradition woven through carefully chosen metaphors and symbolic imagery. As readers embark on this lyrical journey, they are invited to navigate the intricate dance between life and death, as well as the ever-evolving dynamics that characterize the relationships between the old and the young.
In crafting the verses, I sought to create a space where the “whisper in the silence” resonates, urging readers to engage in contemplation. The “pale stag in rut,” a dream half-fed and oblivious to its own transgressions, holds a central position in this personal narrative, serving as a poignant metaphor embodying the delicate yet powerful connection between the living and the legends of days gone by.
The poem, for me, serves as an introduction to the dichotomy between the vibrant youth and the seasoned elderly, vividly portrayed through the image of “Lads in the mire” storming the graveyard beneath celestial wings. The deliberate absence of words and the audible gasps in throats capture the emotional intensity, while the depiction of “fearless hearts in innocence” resonates with the vulnerability and unbridled passion intrinsic to youth. The aged, steadfastly chapel-bound in their spiritual pursuits, emerge as the custodians of cultural heritage, bravely standing against the perceived recklessness of the “youthful market” despite facing disdain.
Nature, in my personal narrative, assumes a pivotal role, particularly in the image of deer cutting through paths in a diagonal plight. This imagery symbolizes life’s unpredictable journey, with the broken roads reflecting the inherent challenges faced. The dark forest, a metaphor for the unknown, underscores the profound mysteries embedded in both life and death.
Within the stanzas, I extend an intimate invitation for contemplation, urging readers to grapple with the philosophical tension between tradition and modernity. The snowy fleece and razor-like antlers take on a mythical quality, conveying the idea that preserving tradition demands a delicate balance of gentleness and strength. The violation of the lore’s nerve and the subsequent hushing by the stag subtly hint at the cyclicality inherent in generational clashes, adding layers of personal reflection to the thematic exploration of the poem.
