Landscape and soul

Though we should not speak about the soul,
that is, about things we don’t know,
I’m sure mine sleeps the day long,
waiting to be jolted, even jilted awake,
preferably by joy, but sadness also comes
by surprise, and the soul sings its songs.

And because no one landscape compels me,
except the one that’s always out of reach
(toward which, nightly, I go), I find myself
conjuring Breugel-like peasants cavorting
under a Magritte-like sky – a landscape
the soul, if fully awake, could love as its own.

But the soul is rumored to desire a room,
a chamber, really, in some far away outpost
of the heart. Landscape can be lonely and cold.
Be sweet to me, world.

–Stephen Dunn

*

Last week I walked out of my office looking for dinner, looking to take a short walk before going back to work.

Around me people were rushing home and the evening light was beautiful. In the city the light of the sunset floods the canyons of skyscrapers and you're bathed in light from a thousand sunsets reflected on a thousand windows.

*

Still. My soul yearns for quiet waters and greenery. Someone at work got dozens of roses and bouquets for valentine's turning her desk into this veritable bower of sweet ferns and fragrant roses. I looked at them and suddenly wanted a moment alone to bury my nose into the heart of the bouquet and breathe life and sweetness back into myself.

*

Do souls need a room? Studying Psalm 23 this week and am so heartened by the promise of still waters and green pastures. Yes yes I do realize they're metaphorical :)