i doubled my search,
looking, looking for it...
but the sojourn proved fruitless...
as one after another declared me barren...
sending me to end of line...
i tried importing it, borrowing it from
souls who stimulated my ego...
i began to imagine a copy, willing it to life...
it evolved into a wretched abomination - you...
as we smother each other...
for you will not understand,
you with eyes,
you see and hear without question...without forgiveness...
i have no filter from your demands,
no blinder for the alley
of your raw, infected visage of doubt.
you hasten my mad rush into exile...
for my house with three walls
allows no escaping vulnerability...
in my yard is a tree,
gnarled and twisted with age,
it remains hollow; but continues to sport green,
while the ancient tentacles beneath the ground
continue to twist around themselves,
moving ever closer to the foundation...
i view it through the planks facing west into the sun...
i cannot refuse the light although my eyes
grow weary from the constant glare...
until the black circle moves to the center...
the unending wind scatters the past
while the tree manages to stand...
even though an enviable branch falls,
spewing its rotten wood across the lawn...
surely the ancient tree will crumble beneath the weight of winter snow and ice...
only then can the search cease
and i can return emptied of contempt....
1 comment:
God Joan this is one of the most painful poems I've read - it talks so much of that feeling of disquiet and a sense of helpless acceptance. Need to read it a few more times to get a better perspective. Brilliant verse!
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