Thursday, September 20, 2012

Ashes




The tell tale thud of certain and excruciating circular death
The air was sucked from the universe one missing breath after another
The smell of ozone and radiation intoxicated, clearing her mind
Mixed sharply with the taste of candied fear, poured from beautiful desperation

Ashes to ashes my father
Drink in the possibilities of fate
Loosen your grip on dear children
And do not temper justice out of emotional convention

She sat on the stoop, eyes closed and dreaming in harsh pastel colors
She devoured the emotional electricity of the city on the brink
A million children asking why, shut up and let me in quickly
Focus dear ones on the beauty of the still wired moment, conscious death

Ashes to ashes my father
Drink in the possibilities of fate
Loosen your grip on dear children
And do not waste precious energy in regret

As the invisible wave rolled on, feeding on primordial pain, quenching
She gathered the fear and locked it in momentary suspension and smiled
War is not real, not the way this universal speck has packaged it
She ate from the depth of the soul and its relationship to mother

Ashes to ashes my father
Drink in the possibilities of fate
Loosen your grip on dear children
Litter our hearts with a more precious understanding

With a whisper that thundered, she released her grasp and bowed her head
Sweet cacophony and unbridled epiphany filled the vacuous void
Pain shattered mid air and clattered to the clay in splendid shards of grace
And the pathetic ghosts of death danced lightly among her people, relieved

Ashes to ashes my father
Drink in the possibilities of fate
Loosen your grip on dear children
Let one be the voice of the many through telling eyes

Mother let the unrepentant tide of dysfunction starve completely
And hold me to your perfect breast until the morning has suckled wisdom
Brushing the hair of the fates, one hundred strokes with razor blade brushes
Allowing new growth and a look into the eyes of lucid understanding

Ashes to ashes my father…..


© 2011 Crowley

3 comments:

  1. have i read this before? are you messin' with me??
    so many great images here, like "candied fear" and "the beauty of the still wired moment." i feel like i gotta sit with this one a bit and let it wash over me. thanks.

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  2. Marian stole my line--I really got a sense that I'd read this previously, yet maybe that's just because it rings like a bell with your particular voice--she ate from the depth of the soul--litter our hearts with a more precise understanding--pure Rowley. I love the dystopian feel to the scene, waiting for a mad screaming in the background cluing you in that things are so very much not what they seem. yet there seems to be an angel voice in there as well--new or old, extra proof in this one.

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  3. What I find so gripping about this poem is the movement from father to mother to child - that holy union in contrast to the severity of war, turmoil and human confusion.

    *sigh* It also reminds me there is no solution but to persevere.

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