Coming in from the Storm

When I began this blog, I intended for it to be something of an open diary, to which I had set out to contribute at least once a week; as well as a place to (at least attempt to) extinguish the burden of the life changes I was then experiencing. Since my initial posts, beginning in late August, events have taken an emotional toll and, much as I wanted to, I haven’t felt strong enough to write about, and tackle head-on, what’s been on my mind.

Below is a brief poem. I hope for it to mark the beginning of a more fruitful output.  

Move On

Move on before it’s over
for all that’s left is catastrophe.
Hindsight: the worst epiphany.
Constellations once duets
of matrimony, now
nothing more than a painful tapestry.

The love letters I chiseled with my fragile bones,
retired; cold and alone.
Will it be my mind or my heart
which succumbs to this black hole?
as I excavate, extirpate, cut out this dead weight
that is
the post of pride that was my soul.

Weakness and deceit plague me
as every detail, from fickle to foul to fantastic
Taunt and torture me,
forever transforming, from the Medieval
to the beautiful, bastard ghost that continues
to haunt me.

Move on before it’s over
for what hits is pure calamity,
from which there is no amnesty.
And let it be known that
It is the opposite of vanity
to weep, to weep,
to know what he meant to she.

(13/09/16)

***

Give me something to believe in
I’m waiting on a reason
Not to keep on floating along
Give me something to believe
So I can give you reasons
To wake yourself up and come in from the storm

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