In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • Shadows
  • Fred Chappell (bio)

Hide and Seek

        Olly olly in free           olly olly in free

The long afternoon of play inches toward dark   And still they do not come, Hidden within the shadows of the park,   Not thinking yet of home, Changing, as the light changes, with force of Time.

Maybe they must be hidden from what they are   From this green springtime on, Receding little by little, hour by hour,   Until, by one and one, As their fleet seasons advance, they shall be gone.

Already their voices seem to fade away,   Echoing across the green And gently sloping hillsides as the day   Draws its sunlight in And in the west the evening star is seen.

        Olly olly in free           olly olly in free [End Page 449]

A Last Glimpse of the Traveler

With each step, divergent pathways open to the girl Who strides emphatically, attempting to outpace The empery of moonlight. One way wends To the snow-dapple mountain, one way to the river Where the moon stretches longwise on the water.

Where, girl, do you fare as night extends? I go to every place my journey conceives. Why do you travel so, knowing not where? I go to leave behind the things that I must leave;I go to seek what yet has been unsought.

There is a grove ahead wherein the shadows Clutch and hold the wanderer with fearful doubt; Ravines on either side yawn so vast and black Moon cannot fetch their depths with her long spear.

So I have heard and do in part believe;Yet, if I stood just here and walked no farther, All my destinies would wither, shrivel, and decay, And I would have no part in them, not evenAs witness. I would give over to what is already over.

We shall not go your road. We wish you well.

I think you do not. I think you are eager to forgetThe very sight of me in my silk dress, with my bright hairUnbound upon my shoulder and all my happinessShining in my face. Are you not cowardly?Are your hearts not withered and shrunken?

We have said what we have strength to say. [End Page 450]

White Out

Longhair Silkie disposes what she is Upon the window sill To watch the breathless snow Take apart the heavy sky And let the pieces fall, Subduing Landro Hill And Shepherd Road where no one passes by.

Serene sisters, Silkie and the snow. She obeys the vow of silence That enrobes her mind As the mindless snowfall Comforts the blind land. Her coat is as white as the mind That listens to the sound the wind Never makes at all.

Snow.   Snow. The world absorbs her stare. Anywhere is everywhere. Silkie is at one with the universe No longer there. [End Page 451]

The Felines of Heaven

How shall they know us in that world beyond, so different from our customary sphere? Will we retain the forms to which they bond to now, or will we garb in shape more rare?

Imagine us in that hereafter place, still mostly human but of another race of beings also, stripped of the faults that made us less humane, neglectful and afraid, misunderstanding, harmful by accident— or, with the worst of us, cruel by intent.

There they await us, eager to recognize old friends they honored for our better halves. We would not know us, not seeing through their eyes. They loved us better than we could love ourselves.

Difference

How powerful a presence is her absence: No Sheba naps, curled on the counterpane, Or sits by the window to memorize the rain, Or tussles with the tassels of a valance With tigress energy and murderous talons, Or attends with steady gaze the slow routine Of household duties droning round again From her vigilant bookshelf eminence.

The armchair seems not empty but incomplete And the patch of sunlit rug unoccupied More vacant than the sky when the moon is hid In the cavern of December’s longest night.

The rooms were quiet when she was resident. Now they lie silent. That is different. [End Page 452]

Fred Chappell

Fred Chappell, a man of...

pdf

Share