Comments on: whose woods are these

By: Kyla

Kyla — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 16:11:01 +0000

I don’t have wanderlust, I never had, although I admire it so in others…but the idea of trying to outrun pain, that I understand. I am sorry there is pain enough to kick in that instinct.

Thank you so for visiting my friend Katie.

By: Redneck Mommy

Redneck Mommy — Sat, 15 Dec 2007 19:43:17 +0000

I would, in a heartbeat, take off for the other side of the world, to start fresh and meet people who didn’t look at me with a mixture of sadness and relief, if for one second I thought I could be free of the tombstone chained to my soul.

Peace during this season my friend.

By: niobe

niobe — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 22:39:09 +0000

What’s the opposite of wanderlust? ‘Cause that’s what I have a bad case of.

How much better to be you, to want always to be wholly elsewhere, to imagine happiness could be unearthed, reclaimed, if you only knew where to look. It’s a blessing, though, like most blessings, the recipients most likely see it as something else.

By: Ann

Ann — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 22:30:27 +0000

Hi there. This is my first time here, and I love your writing. Is Finn’s story anywhere on your blog? I’d love to read it (having just given birth to a stillborn child five weeks ago).

Thank you for this blog.

By: christine

christine — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 12:48:53 +0000

every single thing you write strikes such a cord with me, bon. seriously.

i could right a whole post on this, but take it from me: I know.

I know.

By: LawyerMama

LawyerMama — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 02:13:25 +0000

Bon, you really socked me in the gut with this one. Your imagery is perfect. I love that Robert Frost poem. It was actually the first poem I ever decided to commit to memory. I’m going to have it in my head all evening now. “Whose woods these are, I think I know.”

By: Ally

Ally — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 00:44:14 +0000

“i am lying fallow, these days, like the land beneath the snow in those fields. i move towards the darkest evening of the year and watch the woods fill up with snow, and am quiet and still, abiding.”

This moved me, Bon. Your writing is amazing.

By: emily

emily — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 00:03:15 +0000

Mmmm.

This is achingly lovely, Bon.

By: FENICLE

FENICLE — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 22:43:34 +0000

I love drives alone like that, where you can clear your mind and focus on your actual surroundings.

By: mimi

mimi — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 17:49:22 +0000

You’re right, Bon, at how very small and bounded this stage of life can be, and how surprising 20 minutes away can feel. Yeesh. I’m driving to TO tonight for a movie-thing, and it feels so exotic. But yes, scary as the desire for change can be, it is in fact very comforting to find that who-you-were-before hasn’t flown the coop entirely, that you remain, in that way, wholly who you are.

Best wishes …