Always There

Always there

Did I really believe at fourteen

that if I found a cloak and the right stick

and made my way to J.R.R. Tolkien’s door

he could teach me to become a wizard?

Was I sure, at fifteen, that Pan had been seen

at Findhorn, and that magic existed in hedgerows?

Was that me, naked (well, in underpants only)

on the lawn in the moonlight?

Why did I think, walking in the long grass

on the canal bank with a tangled crown of hips

and ox-eye daisies, amid more nature than I could name,

I could cross into Puck’s world?

Centuries later I look into a mirror

lit only by candles each side, studying

the same dark eyes, wanting to believe

the not easily seen may still be found.

Charlie Steak currently lives in the southwest USA, where he hikes a lot. The winters are great but gardening in summer resembles Armageddon (or maybe Mordor). He has written for Space 55, Synthetic Human, Rising Youth Theatre, and other organizations. His poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Bluebird Word, Constellations, Dogwood Alchemy, Hare's Paw, Orion's Beau, Pinyon Poetry, Tangled Locks, and Two Hawks.

Copyright © 2024 by Charlie Steak

Published by Orion's Beau