For a number so fair,
I assemble here,
drowning in my own laughter,
the mockery of your snores,
so rhythmic, so smooth, so far away.
I fall asleep,
the muted hall light is left on
it is angled
forcing it’s exposing penetrating luminosity
through the door.
The mirror catches the strange glow,
not yellow warming,
one of harsh silver, not comforting
like the guiding north star,
or a wolf’s scream to the blinding circle,
in recognition and saddening agony.
The stream of light glides down my face,
they come faster and faster
each speck of glow,
fading down my cheek.
The bed cloth,
wrinkled and harsh is caught
so tangled within each other,
my toes catch the corners,
I yank it tight… but only the knots grasp tensely.
Extend the hand,
trace gentle the spine,
move it up,
tie a noose,
collapse the hands till the blood stops pulsating,
upon what once said three words.
I am the soldier
who sees the desolate horrors,
the men that shoot their own animals,
the man who nestles the school girls in their graves,
their black dresses dripping in their shreds of flesh.
Your back is turned,
the light doesn’t reach you,
I shine in the frozen metallic swords,
I’m caught in the terrors of night,
un-washable dirt sticks in the wounds,
I lay in my cave,
dark, damp, dirty
the walls crumble with each breath I let out,
I pray for this war to be over,
for you to come home to me,
for you to hold the soft yellow light
it will laugh,
around the life we had.
| What a task this is! To comment on something like this.|
Penetrating luminosity. At first I thought maybe you meant getting into luminosity then after the poem's last line I understood what you meant!
Wow. Usually, light would be a thing of comfort, a thing to love and delight in..but here it becomes cold and horrific. It is the first time I feel afraid of light.
Your usage of images is good and it can be seen throughout the entire poem. I love it when a poem is written using images.
However there is a horror here I cannot place. Before you talk about the soldier who has seen the horrors, I have not yet put my finger on what it is you were talking about.
But it is amazing how you use all this to describe loneliness. I believe you are a good writer.
|| Posted on 2008-08-18 00:00:00 | by nevender | [ Reply to This ] |