Shownotes
Today’s poem is by Madison Scott-Clary, whose graphomania occasionally gets the best of her. You can find more of her writing, from short stories and poems to novels and a memoir, over at makyo.ink.
Today’s poem will be read to you by Ardy Hart, a wolf of all trades.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/growth-by-madison-scott-clary-read-by-ardy-hart
Transcripts
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:Today’s poem is by Madison Scott
Speaker:-Clary, whose graphomania occasionally gets the best of her.
Speaker:You can find more of her writing, from short stories and poems
Speaker:to novels and a memoir,
Speaker:over at makyo.ink.
Speaker:Today’s poem will be read to you by Ardy Hart,
Speaker:a wolf of all trades.
Speaker:Please enjoy “Growth”,
Speaker:a poem by Madison Scott-Clary
Speaker:Used to be you and I daily would walk through the fields out back of the house and talk for hours,
Speaker:spilling words and emotions.
Speaker:These walks were our daily devotions to each other over the years.
Speaker:The fields, dotted with ponds, were our space.
Speaker:We tramped those trails strung like lace along shores and through tall grass,
Speaker:murmuring now like winds,
Speaker:chattering now like brass in some changeful duet.
Speaker:You'd tell me about the geese in the sky,
Speaker:would watch me stand still and not ask why the birds scared me to pieces,
Speaker:even as we dodged around their feces littering the trails.
Speaker:You'd put up with my fickle interests,
Speaker:running with me, or stopping to see what arrests my attention.
Speaker:You'd follow all of my changes and change along with me through all the ranges of our shared experience.
Speaker:You'd tell me of your meditation,
Speaker:I'd talk of my fears of stagnation.
Speaker:You'd always smile so kindly to me,
Speaker:and I'd always feel so free in our companionship.
Speaker:And over time, those walks got slower,
Speaker:shorter, less frequent, or over far too soon, though no less meaningful as we spent our time together in cheerful conversation
Speaker:or kind quiet. We each seemed to be going our separate ways,
Speaker:with me branching out,
Speaker:exploring different lays of different lands, and you
Speaker:turning inwards, exploring lines of thought you never put in words,
Speaker:at least not that you told me.
Speaker:And then one day, we once more went out walking and though it
Speaker:took a while, you got to talking.
Speaker:You told me of how you sat,
Speaker:quiet and alone, waiting for the time you might turn to stone and be completely still at last.
Speaker:You told me how as you sat,
Speaker:the room lengthened,
Speaker:curved around, turned on you ---
Speaker:strengthened, it seemed, by your very presence ---
Speaker:and amid all of that gathered pleasance,
Speaker:bit you in half. You told me how,
Speaker:as part of you died in that moment, the rest of you spied, it seemed, on this very ending.
Speaker:You told me you thought that this rending was the end of something big.
Speaker:I listened in silence.
Speaker:What could I say?
Speaker:The things you were telling me, walking that day were strangely shaped and didn't make sense.
Speaker:Or if they did, they did so around corners as pretense,
Speaker:perhaps, subtext, allusion,
Speaker:metaphor. You were right, though,
Speaker:I could hear it in your voice.
Speaker:There was finality, there,
Speaker:which spoke of a choice already made.
Speaker:Endings were writ on your face, your hands,
Speaker:and your steps --- your very pace spoke of completion.
Speaker:I replied to that sense rather than your words.
Speaker:"While you look up to the geese and see only birds, I see omens and my doom spelled in vees.
Speaker:You speak of rooms and cleaving, but please, tell me,
Speaker:are you leaving?" We'd long since stopped,
Speaker:there by the pond, and your smile was, yes, sad,
Speaker:but still fond as you settled down wordlessly to your knees,
Speaker:took a slow breath,
Speaker:looked out to the trees,
Speaker:and closed your eyes.
Speaker:Beginnings are such delicate times and I very nearly missed it,
Speaker:no chimes to announce the hour of your leaving.
Speaker:As it was, there was no time for believing or not
Speaker:in the next moments.
Speaker:Your fingers crawled beneath the soil and sprouted roots,
Speaker:flesh starting to roil.
Speaker:Coarse bark spiraled up your wrists and arms,
Speaker:Spelling subtle incantations and charms to the chaos of growth.
Speaker:You bowed your head and from your crown sprouted a tender shoot
Speaker:covered in fine down,
Speaker:soon followed by crenelated leaves
Speaker:and fine stems. The pace was fast,
Speaker:implacable, and leaves like gems soon arched skyward.
Speaker:You sprouted and grew,
Speaker:taking root in one smooth motion, fixed and mute.
Speaker:Your clothing fell away,
Speaker:rotting in fast-time.
Speaker:Naked now, you sat still,
Speaker:committing one last crime of indecency.
Speaker:Your face, your face!
Speaker:In your face was such peace as I'd never seen, even as you gave up this lease on life, echoed also in my heart of hearts.
Speaker:I did not cry out,
Speaker:nor even speak, witnessing such arts as your final display showed.
Speaker:Soon, you were consumed, transformed as a whole.
Speaker:Your head a crown of leaves, your heart a bole bored in rough bark and sturdy wood,
Speaker:your fingers, knees, and toes stood
Speaker:as thirsty roots.
Speaker:I stood a while by the tree that was you,
Speaker:then sat at your roots and thought of all I knew about time,
Speaker:transformation, death and change.
Speaker:I thought about you,
Speaker:your life, your emotional range, your gentle apotheosis.
Speaker:Then I walked home,
Speaker:quiet and numb. No, not numb, per se,
Speaker:but perhaps dumb. Dumb of words,
Speaker:dumb of emotions.
Speaker:Quiet. I expected turmoil,
Speaker:some internal riot,
Speaker:I got nullity. Who, after all, if I cried out, would hear my wordless shout among the still trees and rustling leaves?
Speaker:Who hears? Who cares?
Speaker:Who perceives this non-grief?
Speaker:You, my friend, are still there.
Speaker:I walk the fields every day,
Speaker:passing where you changed into something new.
Speaker:I marvel at you, at how you grew into something wholly different.
Speaker:Used to be you and I daily would walk through the fields out back of the house and talk.
Speaker:Now, it's just me,
Speaker:alone, quiet, thinking of you by the shore, forever drinking of sweet water.
Speaker:This was “Growth” by Madison Scott-Clary,
Speaker:read for you by Ardy Hart,
Speaker:a wolf of all trades..
Speaker:Thank you for listening to The Voice of Dog.