I.
i told you already what i am made of.
the wind whistled through my mouth,
and you, disappointed, listened,
to the scraping of sand against fabric;
you were hoping for words
but i do not have them.
i am the trench long after the war is over.
i tried to make you believe i was worth it,
i was scary, i was special,
i was worth the few seconds, the few chemicals
it would take to lodge me
make me stick in your memory.
but you weren't fooled.
sand gets stuck in your shoes
and fabric wears away with time.
II.
chorus of angels.
let me hear thee
the voices and the sunlight
the truth and the meaning
which i cannot be.
sand will be scattered.
fabric will be tattered.
but they will not die.
i will be battered
but i refuse to die.
III.
in the crater i see the face of a king,
broken in two,
and a beggar climbs over the corner of his lips,
his nose, his left eye,
to whisper in his ear:
"give me the starlight.
i shall never want again."
i wish he was not mad.
because i find myself praying, one day,
that the stars will bend to him,
and i want no part in the mind of this man,
broken in two.
IV.
the heart is gone but the broken bones,
jagged trees, chasms,
great mountains,
cracked under the effort of
bearing our weight for so long.
we know there is nothing left.
we hold each other's hands.
there are no hands in a place like this.
there are only slipped knuckles,
bruised bones,
sliced marrow.
i do not want to see again
because if i do see again
i fear my body will be gone
and it will be only me
when death dreams
that is where i will be.
V.
our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
a hundred times.
a thousand times.
it must have been,
i have said those words
and i have never believed them.
i have tried so many times
to talk to god,
and nothing,
i swear,
i would not lie to you,
about a fear so terrible,
because i have heard the bells
with their deep, solemn knells
and i have begged for reprieve
and he has never, never, never
reached down his hand
to grasp the clapper
and the knells have echoed
through the hollow of my body
and the knells have driven me
far, far away to places i do not know,
and i cannot get back because
the clapper, it swings like a pendulum
and one day they will find,
covered with sand and a fabric shroud,
bleeding with knells that sound so loud,
the body of a boy
broken in two
this is the way my dreams end
this is the way my dreams end
this is the way my dreams end
not with a sigh but a scream.
2 comments:
uh...
this is long.
i will read it later, though. i promise.
i read it. it was epic good.
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