I had been a polar explorer in my youth <br />and spent countless days and nights freezing <br />in one blank place and then another. Eventually, <br />I quit my travels and stayed at home, <br />and there grew within me a sudden excess of desire, <br />as if a brilliant stream of light of the sort one sees <br />within a diamond were passing through me. <br />I filled page after page with visions of what I had witnessed— <br />groaning seas of pack ice, giant glaciers, and the windswept white <br />of icebergs. Then, with nothing more to say, I stopped <br />and turned my sights on what was near. Almost at once, <br />a man wearing a dark coat and broad-brimmed hat <br />appeared under the trees in front of my house. <br />The way he stared straight ahead and stood, <br />not shifting his weight, letting his arms hang down <br />at his side, made me think that I knew him. <br />But when I raised my hand to say hello, <br />he took a step back, turned away, and started to fade <br />as longing fades until nothing is left of it.<br /><br />Mark Strand<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-had-been-a-polar-explorer/
