Philosopher's Millstone

Philosopher’s Millstone
By Jane Scharl

Lord, I’ve lived too long in my mind, 
that far-off world that does not exist, 
so long I’ve lost the way back. I’ve walked 
too far beside myself, heard 
what my ears hear only as an echo,
seen my eyes seeing but not what they saw. 

Now the rising of the sun pierces me 
like the cry of another woman’s child,
and light in the morning wakes in me 
that which is not mine to soothe. 

Oh give me for a soul a sun-sweet apple
crackling with the seeds of springs,
or even a kernel of bright wheat
instead of this philosopher’s millstone 
around my neck, this abstracted granite certainty
that will never gleam in any world’s sun.

---

J.C Scharl
Poet & Cultural Critic

Photography by Cara & Aaron Steinebach