Greater solace

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There you are

picture yourself

standing in a vacated room

the walls are nondescript

from the window comes a little wan sun

hardly enough for warmth

you pull yourself closer

recalling how as a child

sitting on old iron radiators in winter

they’d say you’d develop hemorrhoids

in those days

the sound of scuffed shoes running for class bell

figuring you had a few moments yet

to stare out at brick and cement

stretch out reverie

a voice inside your head

surely this isn’t all there is?

you made a pact with yourself

to get the hell out

whatever it took

gathering your books

mindful of their ticket

you forgot yourself in dream

walking past the classroom

after all

learning is better in the mind

than grind of chalk on board

some boy kicking you in the back

with sweaty socks

you knew even then

this was but a stepping stone

though if asked you couldn’t say

what of the grim facade urged you most

to escape

 

and now

all these years later

more alone than that day

when covered by childhoods vigor

and the smell of something better

just around the corner

hope has been sore in her visits

silence too often your friend

as we fall one by one out of the egg carton

we are without wings

without safety harnesses

all the others found places

in busy lives, babies, families, jobs

the weave and knot of life

whilst you stood watching out of the window

glimmering

expecting to fly

 

now in shallow rooms

artifice has left her scent

they tell you the last one has passed over

you feel it in the curve of your chest

no more hands to scoop you back

from your leaning motion to find

somewhere to breathe

where trees are ever green

sunlight full on face

obscuring all trace of bleak homes

terraced and hollow

where you can hear the flush of

neighbors loud toilet

piercing cry of another

born into fitful times

where you never understood

your own role

just the fallacy of drowning sorrows

sundays in the bar

knocking back glasses of regret

nothing could spur you faster

toward wide open space where

no trace of sorrowful city remained

 

and wherever you go

there you are

still back against the wall

still with the locked door

school girl tights bunched in your mouth

hearing muffled voices

discussing your inability to speak

how long can you hold your tongue girl?

before the need to scream

unfurled

and in one howl you swallow yourself

all the disappointment

all the lost chances

breaking through cloud

fast diminishing in oboe sky

open the storeroom of your mind

clear out those long stored hurts

preserved in obscura

 

you may feel you have nothing

but in the sundering fall of flight

we find again our urge

never to quite escape

perhaps more a reinterpretation

carrying on no more alone than before

for we are born crying in singular pitch

in each step grow further to our end

it is in the humility of knowing this

we find our greater

solace

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Want her destroyed

85cd0261365d74ea664f3652dde9fba1No

it is not bitter

when I tell you

she survived in spite

of your carefully crafted Titanic

you set on smooth waters

ushered her near

purchased her passage

set her sail

and whilst she floated

thinking life jackets unnecessary

you put pins in them

as you would her soul

and the part that aches

is she never knew why

you chose her to destroy

or what made you say one thing

and do the other

how you marked her for extermination

lied and said she was your favorite

all the while you plotted

pushing her close to the abyss

with one wish

to set her aflame

not to be extinguished

until she was charcoal again

could it be something about her

reminded you of a deep hate

long-held in your wicked heart?

when you told her you can trust me / I’m not like the others

playing your part

no shame in deception

when intention is to eradicate

her from your world

okay now

the ship sinks beneath the waves

you feel a relief

a lightness

she is underneath

no more to unsettle

or bequeath

whatever reminded you enough

to want her destroyed

Stand out

20140113_d5c_20131123_0749_099_fb2-pheasant-malermb-id768Losing your fingers to frostbite

is one way of learning

the lay of land

as patient

night creatures

await their turn by sunset

we who are foolish

blunder across landscape

like lost phesants

littering harmony with mottled noise

when the car flings them to

roadside graves, warm and feathered

twitching their gory surprise

it is the still ebon crow

hungry for ojos

stark against his watch

who shall taste their regret

for dressing too brightly

attracts less than one might guess

in worlds where to last

you must blend a little

with surrounding color

lest you stand out