Sophia asked me if I’d write the alumni column on a topic of my choosing. Yes, because no is limiting. Shortly after this I realized that it was necessary I write it in rhyme, because I have a condition of the nerves wherein the prospect of prose in news publications sometimes scares me. I have explored potential causes of this, but, as is to be expected with medical diagnoses, the Cause is hard to trace. To save you from having to analyze the Why of my writing this so you can get on to the What, I will tell you this: I wrote it because I did, and then decided it would be a piece on art for art’s sake and play for play’s, just as I told Sophia when I sent it to her.
It may be that something profound is hiding inside all these words. Likely as not it’s somewhere in the golden ocean (see below), which is funny because that tells you as little as it does much! But also there may be nothing hiding there. I would say that’s profound in its own way, but profundity is probably in the eye of the beholder, and given that I don’t know the condition of your eyes, I can’t make any promises. Or rather, I won’t. And now, for your reading pleasure:
The Long Brief Moment
Also known as:
The Third Movement of the Fifth Meditation, of which parts one, two and the rest either are missing or stopped moving
I often struggle to simply say
Unless I say in a rhyming way
And even then it’s not for sure
A remedy but not a cure!
Like many things, in fact, that sounds
What once was up has turned to down
And heavens may I never try
To figure out the reason why
I sought to do that once before
Which left me feeling rather sore
And that in turn was only good
For painful walking in the Wood
Where, I’ll note, the wizard was
Doing things a wizard does
I would’ve loved to stop and chat
But then I saw his ugly hat
If ever a wizard there was were I
An ugly hat would never fly
For what are we if anything
We’re products of our fashioning
I need no wiz to say as much
So off I went into the Brush
Where, I’ll note, the robin flew
Though strange enough, his breast was blue
Before a thought my mind could think
I asked him “where’s your reddy pink?”
And holy cow what had I done—
So wholly rude— I had to run!
So never did I ever hear
The why behind the robin’s wear
But let us all remember true
I dodge the Why as dodgers do
Which by the way has kept me fit:
Forever do I run from it
For everywhere I aim to go
The Why comes in to stop my flow
Then far away from robin’s breast
I climbed a hill and reached the crest
Where naturally I did look down
And wondered Why I saw no ground
As you know this would not do
I turned away and ran anew
For though it might be somewhat curious
I feared a phantom, cruel and spurious
At last I found the golden ocean
With rolling swells of grand emotion
And for a moment long and brief
It let me lounge in sweet relief
Where silence made its roaring sounds
And all the missing things were found,
Were put into their rightful place
Just this side of time and space
But lo, I tell you, hold me, please!
The Why came surfing in to me!
She made me meet her face to face
She said to me “give up the race!”
For I am mere a part of you
I play my part as parts will do.
Be my friend and I’ll be nice
For otherwise I’m cold as ice
Yes otherwise I taunt and tease
And kick you squarely in the knees
I make you fall and make you blind
If to me you are unkind
There you have it, that’s the day
I looked at Why a different way
She takes me to the vast unknown
But treats me to their ice cream cones
She leads down dark and dangerous paths
Then guides me through the aftermath
So now I think it’s quite a thrill
To follow Why where she may will
For what am I if nothing else
I am my only wondering self
Laura LaPlante is a researcher, writer, and Instagram cartoonist. She lives in Portland, OR with her husband, Nick, and son, Wyatt.
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