I clipped away dead branches
From the living shrubs today.
Not an easy thing,
But a thing that must be done.
Strange it is how dead things
Will cling so tightly to the living
As if to squeeze
The last remaining bits of life away
And thus, have company in death and dying.
There is yet more to do
So only the living things are left
To flourish in the spring sun.
Walk with me among the ruins
I will show you the points of interest–
Notice the weeds grown up
between the cracks of stone,
the chambers filled with mold,
the temple fallen, the altar cracked,
seeming to fold.
Imagine who may have walked here
once so long ago,
wracking havoc with fire
upon those who called this home.
The fires burning to spite
the cold winter rain.
Those who survived left
staring into winter’s
icy back eyes
in the heart of it all.
I tire
Slaying demons,
Not my thing.
I’ve chased
Misplaced
Braced
For the reckoning
Of evil deeds.
I’ve offered up my neck
To bring utter happiness
And still—
Nothing would do
Till cutting myself in half
To dig, dig, dig deeper,
Bury the self beneath the soil–
The dirt of need, want, desire
Lay it all to rest in the infertile
Grime, the level of your rule,
To be consumed by rot
Of prayers you pretend to answer,
But you are neither God nor Goddess,
Despite all your pretentiousness.
In this, this turning away,
I offer up prayers
To God and Goddess that truly be,
And I do lay down the sword
I used in battle with myself:
Thus, I become the warrior
I was meant to be.
Vanishing in the light of dawn,
Reflection slowly fading away–
Terrified at being lost,
Horrified at never being found
Discovering there was nothing
Left to be gained–
To be had,
Nothing left to want–
Left to desire.
Only time stood in the way
Of the time when a child
knows how to play.
A time so long ago,
Really, if a child ever knew
The luxury of play
Such is the childhood
Of a child who parents the parent–
The deficit of play
So in the return of a reflection,
To fading back into skin,
Gaining a discovery
Of the need, the desire
To play, to become at times,
The child who had never been
Allowed to be.
Wrangle words, twist defenses
Round heart and soul,
You need the bricks
Behind which
You hide, denying
the blackness all see
Of the hate you spit.
Remember Jacob’s hip
After wrestling with God.
In the fading light,
My hindsight schools, lectures, drills
My foresight
In how to take steps,
In how to look away,
In how to live hopeless,
In how to heal with saltwater dreams
Overflowing with hope.
Yet still with foresight
In how to guard,
My scars, my wounds,
My picked at scabs
In this
fading light of days
Unfilled,
Lived,
Cheered,
Flowering with dreams,
Left
Of life remaining.
Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Night meets Day” August 17, 2020
What a sight the years have been!
Skipped a few heartbeats
walking through the valley,
found nothing new.
I sailed an ocean
didn’t dance as I’d wanted too.
In the desert,
I played a little poker,
winning the game, some money,
but still didn’t know what to do.
Then I thought I’d found a dream,
waking from the nightmare,
I screamed to see
the sight beside me.
Now, I journey onward
to catch the sunlight
as night meets day,
greeting what new sights
I encounter along the way.
So very willingly,
I placed my head into danger’s toothy mouth
When I climbed the Pilgrim’s stairs–
Until dizzy from the height,
And the steepness of the effort–
All done to look upon
A pure crystalline blue sky
Caressing a sapphire sea—
A fantasy of need.
August–
The resplendent month,
Of sun’s heat and blinding light.
The lethargic month
Of jealousy’s blight,
A thing of loss, not fought.
August—
The milestone marking month,
Of anniversaries, holidays, tears.
The flaming month
Of ashes where freedom,
A rising thing, held dear.
Syrup still dripping from your fingertips,
you try to gift me the sugared dreams
you have stolen away
from a pearlescent candied sky.
I long to taste such dreams
of sweetened rest.
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