Monday, January 10, 2011

Poem for Monday: Farsickness

        rough translation of fernweh (Ger):
        the opposite of homesickness.

Imagine a love turned out
as bread best cast

to the rivers, feedings
for smaller, far-flung things—

fire-flights of stillness,
forms alighting, then airborne,

until the breeze begins
to feel like hunger,

the wayward sweep of desire—
for the holy wheel

rotating foot, breath, and earth,
the pilgrim's chaff,

frayed and heliocentric,
in need of distance

as a horizon of prayer
to both call and receive.

Meghan Harlan


  1. Wonderful poem. One line I particularly like: "until the breeze begins/to fell like hunger".

  2. I love this poem. I'm reading with Megan tomorrow night in Berkeley and will mention your post to her...

  3. Readers, buy Megan's lovely book MAPMAKING (2010 BkMk Press), from which this poem's taken...