You grow old.
You love everybody.
You forgive everyone.
You think: we are all leaves
dragged along by the wind.
Then comes a splendid spotted
yellow one—ah, distinction!
And in that moment
you are dragged under.
- From Ruefle’s book Trances of the Blast
I’ve returned to this poem so many times. I find such a strange comfort in it. Like when I rewatch my favorite films or tv episodes in the dark after a rough day, knowing they will always give me that same warmth and joy that will carry me to a better emotional place.
In “Broken Spoke” Ruefle expertly shows us just how much poetry can achieve within seconds. With just a few words, this poem made me seriously contemplate my mortality and relationships with the partners, friends, and family I’ve spent time with throughout my life.
My decades have been chaotic. But then again, whose haven’t? I’ve lost so many for so many reasons. Some trivial. Others tragic. But who hasn't?
I want to believe I’ve grown kinder and gentler, and wiser with time, but I honestly am not certain about that at all. I’ve always excelled at holding grudges, being overly analytical, somewhat robotic even. Yet furious and holding too much within. I spend far too much time in perpetual isolation, more often than not using my writing and art projects as excuses to be alone.
I think too much about too much. I’m tired of meticulously planning the future. It’s exhausting.
I want to be more willing to be “dragged along by the wind.” I want to love everybody. I want to forgive everyone. I want to grow old.
I don’t know where to begin or how to get there. But I’m trying.
I am thankful to poetryisnotaluxury for helping me discover this lovely poem [and so many, many others!]
I shall leave you with one of my favorite reactions to “Broken Spoke” made by @hsienloonglim
Ah yes... the universal feeling of pre-empting happiness with knowledge of ultimate disappointment.