Stephen Massimilla - Poem

 

Stephen Massimilla 

LOST QUEST

“The search for wholeness involves many detours…”

—Jung

You’ve gotten sidetracked only to find

yourself in this last huge used bookstore—

one almost swallowed by the pandemic—

searching for your homeland

with an app on the blink: your flashlight.

Maybe your love

of returning is still pressed between pages

where you could examine your own dream

as you would a fetus or Galapagos lizard.

Maybe you’re alone

with buried, surviving wishes, fears, hisses: A pipe

knocks inside the wall like a metal heart.

Among your oldest visions, among the many

volumes of weight and promise: the Ashkenazi ghosts

still nestled in behind your back. Even a god

can’t be forgiven

for devouring so many lives. But the sense of shouting

comes from nowhere, just from print.

And look, right at your fingertips:

pages and pages of unmarked scars in the landscape,

or still (with hope?) freezing teens and spaniels

buried in the snow.

         

There was nothing to eat, no one else to care,

nothing but melted (thank God for) air.

Your grandmother was herself a teen

who unburied herself, escaped. There was an arbitrary

bridge, tiny fragments of flags. In this cold life, why

have sisters, children, people? Back in that flattened

Polish town, a thousand years of relatives are gone.

Where you yourself were and are

must still matter now: Waking barefoot, famished,

heading back toward the icebox,

but not to look inside, maybe you’ll find

what you’re really living for.

 

Stephen Massimilla is a poet, painter, professor, photographer, and author of several books. His multi-genre Cooking with the Muse (Tupelo Press, 2016) won the Eric Hoffer Award and many others. His newest poetry collections, Frank Dark (Barrow Street Press, 2022) and Stronger than Fear: Poems of Social Justice, are forthcoming.