Intrepid wanderer, endlessly searching for the story of you,
Oblivious to the scattered clues you’ve dropped behind,
We trail you through the forest,
Hungry field mice
Eagerly gathering the bread crumbs and
sprouted seeds of your existence,
storing them up for the winter.
And still you go hungry.
Laura Young, 2005
I like this, quite evocative. Mysterious. Who is the "you?" God? What are "the scattered clues?"
Posted by: Frank Rutledge | 02/06/2013 at 08:53 AM
Ooh, I wrote it inspired in a different way but your suggested interpretation fascinates me...I shall say no more here so I can let this stand on its own (but I'll be happy to talk to you about it in person sometime...). Thanks for putting your thoughts here.
Posted by: Laura | 02/06/2013 at 09:01 AM
Oh, I like seeing this here. And your interpretation is indeed intriguing, Frank. L, of all your poems, this is one I've always kept close. I've never known what your inspiration was, but my eyes find my story in it. It's a welcome old friend to find on the blog this morning.
Posted by: Erin | 02/07/2013 at 08:45 AM
Lovely!!! While it almost seems profane to take a stab at the meaning, to me, this poem speaks of the carnal hunger of seeking oneself. Instead of following the trail of bread crumbs, the traveler refused to look 'inward' or to their roots. So they will continue go 'hungry' (metaphorically), never seeing the beautiful seeds in their wake; never appreciating the 'field mice'; and so on. Excellent metaphor about the search for meaning, in my humble opinion.
Posted by: Brandon Fink | 02/12/2013 at 08:41 AM
You read well, young Skywalker. : )
Posted by: Laura | 02/12/2013 at 08:55 AM
Bravo Brandon.
Posted by: Frank Rutledge | 02/13/2013 at 08:00 AM
Wow ... just a quiet wow
xx
Posted by: Di | 02/20/2013 at 03:23 PM
: )
xx
Posted by: Laura | 02/21/2013 at 10:17 AM