resignation, a certain kind of sadness:
the vacuum of air filling the space
between a tear and the cheek
now asunder, or the parting of skin
as it is rent. an immobility that is heavier
than weight, a certain kind of eternal
regret (eternally regressing) that drags
on and on until at last the tear splashes.
yet deeper the fall is felt, the shock of realization
smashing against neurons, echoing throughout
the layout of the roots which define the route
by which pain returns to your brain.
the littlest squelching of hope in darkness,
a darkness absorbed in all kinds of lights
even the hues of non-visible colours...
a stain that's been wiped, cleaned
and still stays, unwilling to leave.
finally the heart pounds its way
through this mess...
| This was powerful for me. Even in the depths of unfathomable pain, there is still the science of it all ... the slo-mo descent of a teardrop as it runs down a cheek, the firing of neurons as a message of pain is spread throughout the body. I have the vision of the path of pain being well-worn, like the high traffic areas of a carpet.|
I don't believe this poem speaks about a general sadness. This is a more mature, worn out, worldly sadness. It's a sadness that comes from knowing about the way things are, and also knowing which of them can change. I also sense the speaker in the poem has some deep regrets, and he is almost pacing out the penance, in a way, walking that pain trail over and over, back and forth.
We are unable to travel in time. And all we have is now. The heart does keep beating. Certain things are absolute, and nature is one of them. It does not care if you were not done, or if you left dinner cooking in the oven.
Picture was great too.
|| Posted on 2016-04-27 00:00:00 | by BlankSheet | [ Reply to This ] || Finally the heart pounds it's way through this mess..|
Yes, no matter how much pain and sadness comes with resignation the heart refuses roll over and die. You might want to, yet life goes on regardless. I can actually feel that pounding. The one that's more in your throat and puts you on the edge of dry heaving. That flutter mixed with a heavy pounding against your chest that makes it hurt to breathe..
I love the picture with this as well. Sometimes all one can do is walk away whether they want to or not. As far as a title, I actually like your first line... A Certain Kind Of Sadness.
|| Posted on 2012-09-14 00:00:00 | by MmR | [ Reply to This ] || Many people have attempted to write out emotions. The fascinating thing about emotions is you cannot teach them. You may explain them and tell people how they should feel at a moment (almost like the etiquette of emotions) but you cannot truly teach emotions.|
I couldn't teach you to love, more so than you could teach me to hate. For hate is born emotion. Anger, regret, sadness...each powerful in itself yet usually coupled with underlying items.
I like how instead of railing at the word, and describing each pitfall that has produced the tear, you go about and explain its route.
This almost can be viewed clinically, to take oneself from the actions of a descending tear drop, away from the origin of pain...and yet without back ground information you can still feel the underlying poignant emotion.
It's a cycle isn't it. Sadness, "What ifs", helplessness...all if it stems thru to one point. that in the end you move on. Though the journey costs portions of ones soul and sanity, in the end
"Finally the heart pounds its way
Through this mess... "
What I've noticed though is that you haven't mentioned how this could be a happy ending. Only that despite it all the heart still persists to beat. It's almost like the day my world stretched to [unbearability], my heart still beat, my lungs still filled, my eyes still blinked. Time never once stood still so that I could encompass it all and try to make sense of a tangled mess. It just moved on.
This poem brings all that to mind :) I hope I didn't over analyze it, but even so you've brought to my attention thoughts that many of us share.
|| Posted on 2012-07-16 00:00:00 | by ARoseyTint | [ Reply to This ] || a tender kiss on the cheek|
and still the mollified refuse to speak
an "almost now" moment that never was
the eternal answer to "why" - because...
|| Posted on 2012-05-24 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ] || Very solid piece here on something that often eludes explanation or understanding. That it ends with a minor note of optimism is quite laudable.||| Posted on 2012-05-20 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] || i really got absorbed in this piece. felt the pain that caused the tear, and felt like i was the tear sliding down the cheek.|
"Reservoir of Regret" comes to mind as a possible title...
yes, often the past is a stain that will not go away...and we can't "shout" it out, no matter how loud the words we write, trying to erase the pain.
i like the picture...the walking away...but not away from the pain, more like walking with it.
|| Posted on 2012-05-19 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] |