Homeward

By ROBERT CORDING

One of those words from another time,
I think, as my walk circles back
towards my house, the wind, an accomplice
with the cold this late November day,
filming my eyes with tears. The sun’s bounce
is gone. It’s resigned to going down
earlier each day, and sinks slowly over
the pond towards December’s bottom.

When a truck passes, piled deep with cut wood,
it magnifies the longing in my body
for the cold day to flame up. Nostalgia:
the pain of it, how it cleaves return
and home, so there’s no getting home,
not again, not ever, but only the remembering
of some happiness that went unrecognized
when, long ago, it was being had.

The streetlights remind me the time is later
than I’d realized, and for a moment
I’m that sojourner in the Psalms, a stranger
in a strange land who knows how the world
will never be the home he wants it to be. Fallen,
and heaped up by the wind at the road’s edge,
a windrow of pine needles seems pale as the clippings
of my childhood hair on the barber’s floor.

 

Robert Cording teaches English and creative writing at College of the Holy Cross where he is the Professor of English and Barrett Professor of Creative Writing. He has published seven collections of poems: Life-list, which won the Ohio State University Press/Journal award, in l987; What Binds Us To This World (Copper Beech Press, l991); Heavy Grace, (Alice James, l996); Against Consolation  (CavanKerry Press, 2002); Common Life, (CavanKerry Press, 2006); Walking With Ruskin (CavanKerry, 2010), which was runner-up for the Poets’ Prize last year; and his newest, A Word in My Mouth: Selected Spiritual Poems (Wipf and Stock, 2013).  He has received two National Endowment for the Arts fellowships in poetry and two poetry grants from the Connecticut Commission of the Arts.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 08]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Homeward

Related Posts

New York City skyline

Lawrence Joseph: New Poems

LAWRENCE JOSEPH
what we do is // precise and limited, according to / the Minister of Defense, // the President / is drawing a line, // the President is drawing / a red line, we don’t want to see  / a major ground assault, the President says, / it’s time for this to end, / for the day after to begin, he says, // overseer of armaments procured

rebecca on a dock at sunset

Late Orison

REBECCA FOUST
You & I will grow old, Love, / we have grown old. But this last chance // in our late decades could be like the Pleiades, winter stars seen by / Sappho, Hesiod & Galileo & now by you & me. // Let us be boring like a hollow drill coring deep into the earth to find / its most secret mineral treasures.

Waiting for the Call I Am

WYATT TOWNLEY
Not the girl / after the party / waiting for boy wonder // Not the couple / after the test / awaiting word // Not the actor / after the callback / for the job that changes everything // Not the mother / on the floor / whose son has gone missing // I am the beloved / and you are the beloved