Quadrille – Soul Free

I don’t know exactly when
The movers came, packed,
Then departed with my soul.

Or maybe it ditched
Over the Pacific,
With no parachute.

Yet I don’t mind the simplicity,
The sunlight, the space.

And you are free,
To come only as you are.



dVerse: Quadrille #40

44 thoughts on “Quadrille – Soul Free

    1. Thanks. I think most people would say, “wasn’t it your *self*, e.g. ego etc. that is gone?” I guess, maybe. I don’t really know the answer. So I put it out there as best I could.


  1. I was thinking, as you said above, that the word ego could be substituted for soul but then again to have a soul is a heavy think, so ditching all that over the pacific would be freeing. Glad you didn’t edit over your instinct on that word. Really nice poem!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, it is not without cost (maybe great cost). But if it seems to be true, you have to carry on anyway. What else can you do? Maybe try and make lemonade out of lemons as the old saying goes.


  2. I don’t know, but this feels more sinister to me. This feels ‘Robert Johnson at the crossroads’ dark. Now, if you had used the ego instead of soul, it would feel differently; one is owned and the other, given, in the spiritual sense. Getting out of one’s way, as you say, is a freeing of the ego and I get that. Having soul packed up or ditched stikes me as a loss of self that is beyond the ego. One is temporal and the other eternal. Maybe melancholy is a better descriptor than sinister, but I don’t feel freedom; I feel loss.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes, I intended that sort of tension. I did mean soul in the fullest sense. And to be berereft of it. But what is left when that is gone? What space might exist? I don’t have a satisfying answer here. Sort of abandoned with nothing left to lose clarity.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. As someone who has moved more times than I’d care to count… the discussion on soul, ego, being, et al… well, if the movers were some of the more inept ones I’ve heard tell of, your “free”-ing might not be all that self-motivated. But I digress. Freed of soul, parachute or no, surreptitious men and a truck, what have you, leaves you hollowed of being. I reference the episode of The Simpsons, where Bart sells his soul as a goof, and discovers he has lost his sense of humor. Your poem is more thoughtful than that; but equally subtly dark.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I’m left felling oddly ambivalent. There is light and space, but I wonder if the cost is too high? It felt numbing…also, I read the ending as slightly sinister, don’t know why. Looking at the comments, you’ve created lots of different readings in just 44 words!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh my, yes! I’m quite well. Thanks for asking though. When I wrote the poem I was definitely in a contemplative mood, and not so sure where my soul began or ended or the meaning of it etc. as I expressed in the poem. But I hope I left some room for hope!

      Liked by 1 person

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