Thank you so much, Erik, for sharpening my memories of a 7 day/6 night trek in the backcountry of Baxter State Park, home to Katahdin. Fall, 1980. Then a party of two could reserve an entire site, which afforded the silence and solitude of which you spoke.
No cell service, of course. The very few we passed seemed intent on solitude as well. Of course I delighted in reading of your lived experience, knowing that such conditions still exist. Nonpareil.
Very beautiful reminds me as a child outside a rustic cabin in northern Wisconsin, my Dad sat outside a glass of brandy in hand he said “this is my church.” Thanks for reminding me
I don’t long for that cabin. I am grateful to have protection from the elements but I value your bringing us that experience. I can feel how comfort can insulate us from the immediacy of sensing what is real. With all the War and suffering, I am feeling survivor’s guilt. Why can I be alive and comfortable while others starve or die from enemy actions?
Evocative, contented narrative, Erik. Knowing your penchant for description, amidst the praise of solitude, there is latent yearning for something perhaps not even speakable, unknowable. That's where it is so intriguing to me.
Thank you for this! I live in a city now but this transported me back into the time I lived in a little cabin in the redwoods. There’s something so magical about being a witness of the seasons changing and surrendering to the elements
Love it! Love Maine! My home state, along with Massachusetts. Erik, bless your poetic soul and all that you share! Now in Mexico @zihuawriter on Instagram posting newest work and inspiration from my other soul-space, place..
Profane propane to light the stove or lantern and break through solstice -- past the dark nights that allow you to see stars and Borealis bright. Was in vacation land for summer fun; worked on a farm. Inspiration upwells from rainy storms and crashing waves by Belfast bay. A few sunny days to plant veggies and reap rewards of green beans, broccoli and chard. Blueberries, strawberries , raspberries delight. But alas, return to LAX and start the hum drums beating a different tune like Sandy Nelson’s eleven minutes “Civilization“. An awesome rendition to revive if you can listen to it while ice fishing waiting for a flag to rise letting you know you have caught a pickerel and me with your words that keep me a welcome subscriber. Look forward to catching up on your writing.
In the rare moments when I feel tempted to make those extra steps away from society seeking solitude, quietness, people resemble headless puppets more, wallowing in their tedious chaos towards nowhere and nothing. It’s then when it’s less likely that I would feel compelled to say anything to anyone. I’m curious what’s driving you back and gives you the energy necessary to further address people and maintain the pages you have on social media? Wonderful poem, thank you! 🙏
Thank you so much, Erik, for sharpening my memories of a 7 day/6 night trek in the backcountry of Baxter State Park, home to Katahdin. Fall, 1980. Then a party of two could reserve an entire site, which afforded the silence and solitude of which you spoke.
No cell service, of course. The very few we passed seemed intent on solitude as well. Of course I delighted in reading of your lived experience, knowing that such conditions still exist. Nonpareil.
Appreciate it Gary!
"The timeless ache of a million nights" "The comforts and constraints of civilization"
What great lines. I can smell the wood smoke in that cabin and that wonderful scent of a woodland walk.
Very beautiful reminds me as a child outside a rustic cabin in northern Wisconsin, my Dad sat outside a glass of brandy in hand he said “this is my church.” Thanks for reminding me
Thank you for writing so vividly.
I don’t long for that cabin. I am grateful to have protection from the elements but I value your bringing us that experience. I can feel how comfort can insulate us from the immediacy of sensing what is real. With all the War and suffering, I am feeling survivor’s guilt. Why can I be alive and comfortable while others starve or die from enemy actions?
Every place has a story and your descriptive powers are so great I want to be there.
So well said
Evocative, contented narrative, Erik. Knowing your penchant for description, amidst the praise of solitude, there is latent yearning for something perhaps not even speakable, unknowable. That's where it is so intriguing to me.
Thank you for this! I live in a city now but this transported me back into the time I lived in a little cabin in the redwoods. There’s something so magical about being a witness of the seasons changing and surrendering to the elements
Love it! Love Maine! My home state, along with Massachusetts. Erik, bless your poetic soul and all that you share! Now in Mexico @zihuawriter on Instagram posting newest work and inspiration from my other soul-space, place..
Zihuatanejo!
Thank you Lisa!
Beautiful… Thank you
Profane propane to light the stove or lantern and break through solstice -- past the dark nights that allow you to see stars and Borealis bright. Was in vacation land for summer fun; worked on a farm. Inspiration upwells from rainy storms and crashing waves by Belfast bay. A few sunny days to plant veggies and reap rewards of green beans, broccoli and chard. Blueberries, strawberries , raspberries delight. But alas, return to LAX and start the hum drums beating a different tune like Sandy Nelson’s eleven minutes “Civilization“. An awesome rendition to revive if you can listen to it while ice fishing waiting for a flag to rise letting you know you have caught a pickerel and me with your words that keep me a welcome subscriber. Look forward to catching up on your writing.
In the rare moments when I feel tempted to make those extra steps away from society seeking solitude, quietness, people resemble headless puppets more, wallowing in their tedious chaos towards nowhere and nothing. It’s then when it’s less likely that I would feel compelled to say anything to anyone. I’m curious what’s driving you back and gives you the energy necessary to further address people and maintain the pages you have on social media? Wonderful poem, thank you! 🙏
I love who you are. Thank you.
Thank you Dian!
"time here is a mockery."
Fabulous line.
This is a beautiful poem. It takes me beyond that cabin in Maine. It takes me inward; I long for that knowing.
Absolutely stunning work ✨
Thank you!
Erik, Beautiful! I’m gonna savor this and read it a hundred times. Who is the dead poet who wrote the sublime lines at the end?
Stanley Kunitz. Thank you for your kind words.