Saturday, December 2, 2017

Arc

 
Afraid to move forward



Or retreat back
across the wreckage



this moment like shrapnel
scattered across the wasteland

our lives as a fraying banner  



begging for the rain to fall



as blossoms scattered to the wind



caustic and hurtful



the ache of what has been done echoing through us.



In the savagery of our species



Stripped of arousal



Where I don’t ever want to feel numb like this, numb to you.



Separated from what I feel and what I am  



Drawn and desiccated



Callous to our own suffering.



I open my eyes upon urban and domestic pantheon



In moments of solitude



Dissolving sexuality in a harshness I cannot place



I feel horrible—

I feel lost.







In the scent of something I relegate to memory



among caverns of corrosive darkness



How deeply we experience such moments

how often;



As chaos and carnage



Sought and sonder



Wish and wonder



a thin ribbon of smoke peels across this landscape

that chokes in sorrow 

asphyxiates in hurt





where you seem so impossibly far

in grief and strife and sorrow  



how can we face the sun again

or each other  




unspeakable loss  

Wondering on that which will not become

in the clarifying bitter scent of redemption.

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