home a safe place to land
   unpublished poetry
I always knew
I always knew
that you would find me,
no clock needed to remind
me that it would happen.
I planned on it, worked it out
hid in plain sight every day
knowing you would pass,
that way or this, come along,
go by, pause in moving to
here or somewhere; near or
far it did not matter. You
              would arrive.

It kept the heart
alive and thriving in the clatter
of times' travel to know
that you would turn and see me
then not turn away. You here
or coming, unraveling the puzzle,
kept me whole and safe
and driving on toward this day.

When the evenings, like forever,
started fleeting, going fast
I could see you at some distance
disappearing in the mist.
In the mass of fondled faces
one imagines in a lifetime
yours was there just out of grasp.

As you fluttered in my future,
fled throughout my lifelong past
I expected every spring to bring you
to my arms, to my side. When
the autumns started coming thick
and firm and fast, I never once
gave up believing you'd arrive
with winters passing, you would
be here as the moon fell.

As the sun rose we would clasp
hands at first, then bodies closing
up that awful gap that life without
a life long partner leaves between
the noon and night line. Did I
falter in my faith? Once or twice
perhaps, but never long enough
to leave you languishing in some
dream that wasn't mine. Because
I always knew that you would
find me, I never sent out distress
signals, never tapped out SOS.

I was blessed
with growing knowledge, something
whispered do not worry, it will
happen, it's been planned. Nothing
here is happenstance. Do not hurry.
Do not pause to catch your breath.
So it was I always knew

Now and then I leapt to heaven
on another's stroke or kiss, lent
to me to keep me going in this
sure direction. Afterward the same
affection that I saved, assigned to you
only grew. I always knew that you
would find me and so I did not
bother scrawling each and every
new address on cloud or curb stone.
Why? I was waiting, you knew the rest.

A nocturne for The King of Naples,
A serenade or two for those who
got me through some fearful midnights.
Sonatas for some faces time erases but
does not forget. A double wind concerto
for the wind itself; it could have blown
me anywhere, but wouldn't, didn't. I
dropped some songs along the way in
laps of strangers, even laps I knew. But
this music you see spread around you
these notes and half notes, planted long
ago, that grew and grew was/were saved,
because I always knew that you would
find me and help me with the harvest.

The strongholds, the havens that
proved weak and wanting, lessons
learned, prizes earned, not always
given. Paths I paved, paths unpaved.
The rest of what I have to offer, little
things this life's amassed; for you,
for you, it was for you I saved
                               the best for last.
Copyright 1998 by Rod McKuen & Stanyan Music Group. All rights
reserved and no part may be reproduced in any form without written
permission of owners.
home    unpublished  poetry