A Poem by Diane Seuss: ‘Nature Which Cannot Be Driven To’
Illustration by Akaterini Gegisian March 20, 2024, 8:50 AM ET To drive to it is to drive through it.Like a stalker, it is in the back seat of the car.It’s in the passenger seat, and the wires of the radio.You want to think of it as a destination,a two-week break from purchase power.Though you have purchased much to get there.Certain shoes, with certain soles.Like an exile in a self-made skiffin the middle of a tortured sea, natureis what you have done to it.Nature is you, and the doing to it,and your platitudes, and the wishingyou could do more, or could have done more.Could have done—a part of speech referred to asa “modal of lost opportunities.” Natureis the parts of speech, having learned them,and having forgotten them. It is the singularpronoun you looking in the mirror,realizing you could have done more to hold onto your beauty. Who are you kidding?You were never beautiful. There was nothingto hold on to. Nature is how you were born,with a birthmark that blazed when you cried,centered right between your browslike …