The proud old lineage

A poem by Reg Naulty

We Poets of the proud old lineage
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why
(James Elroy Flecker)

When found, they are free
to follow their imaginations, gladly,
wherever they may lead:

into another personhood
which is more satisfying than now:
perhaps designing a garden, or making an idealist’s vow,
or something more physical, like a splashing sailor
on the oceans far,
or something more fanciful, with a different body,
like a butterfly, or a flower, or a tree.
They dream of liberation,
and further off, obscurely, a destination.

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