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
have i read this before? are you messin' with me??
ReplyDeleteso 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.
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.
ReplyDeleteWhat 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.
ReplyDelete*sigh* It also reminds me there is no solution but to persevere.