How Paula Crossed the River (mystic, bible, religion)

[Sunstone]

Paula kissed
Soft as the rustle of winter grasses

But she couldn't find where the wind
Eddies among the rocks in winter, and she was exposed.

Inside her were enormous bands stretched across starlight
And hung on eagle’s cries

That brittled and snapped in all her loneliness,
Though at the last she got religion.

Was that when she knew
She wouldn’t be coming back?

At Andersonville, the soldiers
Died for lack of salt

Which could not be dug from the red clays of their prison,
Nor provided by their captors.

Some in anguish
Tore the word “salt” from their Bibles
And ate the word.

And what were they
But for salt?

And what was Paula
But for love?

[michel]

I love it.

[Sunstone]

Originally Posted by michel

I love it.

Thank you, Michel. Can I take your unqualified statement to mean that I have for once produced elephant dung rather than my usual horse manure?

[Mystic-als]

You know. After the Wispers you have set yourself such a high standard. This work is good but seems a little forced.
Do I like it? YES!! I like where you are going. But I don't think you have arived yet.

Bottom line.--------------------------------------------- Good work. Keep it up.----------------------

[Sunstone]

Originally Posted by Mystic-als

You know. After the Wispers you have set yourself such a high standard. This work is good but seems a little forced.
Do I like it? YES!! I like where you are going. But I don't think you have arived yet.

Bottom line.--------------------------------------------- Good work. Keep it up.----------------------

Thank you, Mystic! I agree this one's not up to "Whispers." I think you've detected this poem is recent, rather than something I took time to refine, Mr. Holmes. Then too, there are gaps in it, aren't there? For instance: Is Paula in a prison of some sort, like the prisoners at Andersonville? And if so, why is that left unsaid, undeveloped? Very good comments, Mystic! Thanks for taking the time to read the poem and offer them.

[Mystic-als]

I can't wait to read some more of your recent works.
This poem almost seems like two merged into one. As if you were comparing two situations. Paula's life like a prison. Without a way out. She was searching for wind (life). But couldn't find it. She became despirate like prisoners hunger for flavour in life. Not just the bland existance. But I think she died. Searching for Love in life.
She settled for anything that even resembled love like the prisoners eating the words looking for salt.

Maybe I'm totally wrong.

[Sunstone]

Originally Posted by Mystic-als

But I think she died. Searching for Love in life.

I think that's what she was always searching for. Paula loved so much, but not always well, and far too seldom had her loved returned as love. That was my impression of her.

She settled for anything that even resembled love like the prisoners eating the words looking for salt.

I think that's spot on about her. It seems to me that when she was young, she settled more than once for a mere semblence of love. As she grew older, the consequences of those compromises became frightening.

Had you met her, Mystic, I think a sensitve person such as you would have noticed something in her eyes: They would look into you, not at you. I'm not quite sure what that meant, but I used to notice it. Sometimes, though, I would think she was looking for soil kind of soil in you for something in her, some seed, to take root in, if that means anything. It was a strange impression of someone to have.

Maybe I'm totally wrong.

I don't think you're even close to being wrong about her.