Community Poetry Journal

Community Poetry Journal

A collaborative journal for poetry YWS-ers have read!

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  • Created Wed Jul 21, 2021 1:34 pm

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  • Liminality Creator
    Another H.D. poem, this time from her collection Sea Garden, which you can find on Project Gutenberg.

    PURSUIT
    What do I care
    that the stream is trampled,
    the sand on the stream-bank
    still holds the print of your foot:
    the heel is cut deep.
    I see another mark
    on the grass ridge of the bank—
    it points toward the wood-path.
    I have lost the third
    in the packed earth.

    But here
    a wild-hyacinth stalk is snapped:
    the purple buds—half ripe—
    show deep purple
    where your heel pressed.

    A patch of flowering grass,
    low, trailing—
    you brushed this:
    the green stems show yellow-green
    where you lifted—turned the earth-side
    to the light:
    this and a dead leaf-spine,
    split across,
    show where you passed.

    You were swift, swift!
    here the forest ledge slopes—
    rain has furrowed the roots.
    Your hand caught at this;
    the root snapped under your weight.

    I can almost follow the note
    where it touched this slender tree
    and the next answered—
    and the next.

    And you climbed yet further!
    you stopped by the dwarf-cornel—
    whirled on your heels,
    doubled on your track.

    This is clear—
    you fell on the downward slope,
    you dragged a bruised thigh—you limped—
    you clutched this larch.

    Did your head, bent back,
    search further—
    clear through the green leaf-moss
    of the larch branches?

    Did you clutch,
    stammer with short breath and gasp:
    wood-daemons grant life—
    give life—I am almost lost.


    For some wood-daemon
    has lightened your steps.
    I can find no trace of you
    in the larch-cones and the underbrush.


    This poem made me feel the single-minded drive of the speaker to find the person, concept, or whoever they are addressing. I imagined it was a person, at least, who was being chased by some hostile creatures a while back, and now is being tracked by the speaker. It's interesting to me because it's a poem that reads almost like an action scene, but also has a quality of timelessness that I associate with poems. The nature scene feels like it occurs in a capsule and this capsule could be found anywhere. And the strong verbs like "trampled" and the speaker's intense voice from the beginning with "What do I care" also conveys emotions that I think go beyond time and space. c:


Journeys end in lovers' meeting.
— William Shakespeare