the hermits of reading

Poem #12 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


he has been wandering
lost
in the darkness
of a densely treed forest

lost
long enough
to doubt his reason
his purpose
in entering these woods
at night

but
it was a desperation
that drove him
that drives him still
clutching fiercely
his sole possession
of any value
in both hands
held tight against his body

he stumbles
comes near to falling
but rights himself
maintains his grip

all the time
he is casting about wildly
as though to penetrate
the dark
with one
correct
glance

and there

there

he sees it

surely
there it is

a flicker
a small flower
of light

he is saved
his purpose
holds

staggering now
he proceeds
by path
and by tree root
until the way
is clear

the hut
of the hermit
stands before him
a light spreading wide
from a single lantern
seated on the sill
of a window

clustered around
as far as the edge
of the spill of this illumination
his fellow seekers

arrayed
each with his personal
most precious possession

open
printed pages
held to the light

lips move
fingers touch the page
but each holy word
is read
in reverent silence


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #13: renewal

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7 thoughts on “the hermits of reading

  1. Pingback: Author Interview – Gabriele Russo – The “Gods Inc.” trilogy – “Incompetent Gods”, “Inclement Gods” and “Incoherent Gods” (Fantasy/Comedy) | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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