“The Observer” – Matia Guardabascio
Sitting here with no identity
Think with me my friend, of love,
Which springs up like weeds
In cracked sidewalks…
Tap tap go the feet passing beyond us.
Do you hear them my friend?
Watch as love is trampled
By stampedes of busied travelers-
Disregarded as no more significant
Than those nameless shrubs; a petty inconvenience
To the endless flow of traveling feet.
Do you see them my friend?
They linger just beyond us: silent
And stuck in some impenetrable cycle,
Which runs on without purpose or end.
Can you not feel them my friend?
That low rumble of the morning glide,
The ignorant stride of miserable masses?
I can hear them in my sleep, in my dreams,
And it haunts me my friend, that you
Might be among them- lost in the lifeless,
The mindless memory of your insignificance.
Follow the feet if you must my friend,
But know that I will mean no more to you
than the weeds beneath your feet.
Easily the best poem from Matia that I have seen published here on the Johnsonville Press to date, and I’ve read them all.
As I see it, this poem is about the relationship between Time and the Timeless. The passing footsteps here represent time–and what could be a better metaphor for it? I particularly like the second to last stanza–”That low rumble of the morning glide, The ignorant stride of miserable masses?” That question mark is great. We constantly occupy the present, but we can never come into contact with it–for the space between present and past is infinite. The poet labels this phenomenon as a depressing one–”miserable masses”, “lifeless”, “the mindless memory of your insignificance”–but asserts that in the unsubstantiated face of time, we DO have the timeless, for example, Love. Time tramples all, but if we hold on to the timeless, even for a moment, we can laugh in the featureless face of Time’s destructive hegemony. At heart, this poem is an appeal to find the timeless things in our lives that make living meaningful and worthwhile, the good reasons we have to live on under Time’s oppressive hands. It is the rationality of a true lover of life. Thanks very much to Matia for submitting it.
yeah, this poem reminds me of a german expressionist painting.
Thank you for the comments. Its nice to see that you have found some meaning in this poem. I would suggest though, to read it a couple more times and to think if this poem really is about timelessness and the timelessness of love. Or rather, let me give you a small hint: imagine sitting on a park bench or on a bench on the street. Think about what you see and then re-read this poem. I will not say what I think this poem means, because I believe that poetry is subjective, in a certain sense. There is a specific meaning to this poem, as there is with all of them. However, I do believe that there is more than one way to read a poem.
And may I ask, which painting are you refering to?
ernst ludwig kirchner’s street in dresden, (http://afeatheradrift.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/kirchner1.jpg)
That painting seems to relate to this poem very well. It shows the street scene of those “busied travelers” who appear to move along without purpose, stuck in the flow of society’s limitations, or rather expectations. I appreciate the reference!
anytime. his other works are good too (such as a street in berlin) .
although it doesn’t always work out this way it would be cool to have a picture/painting at the end of a poem on this site.
Well perhpas we can figure out a way to collaberate on that. Its fun when different forms of art reflect each other.
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