Tuesday, April 15, 2008

pain to peace

0 observations

With nothing better to do, I shall write. I shall write like the blood of angels and devils pours out upon me. I shall write as though the flesh has been torn from my bones and my every sinew has been set ablaze. I shall write as though my heart has passed through shadow and solace and a synergistic pain bent to the rising of an indifferent moon.

But, trust me, I shall write.

pain to peace

muck to mire. stone to fire. clouds, aloud, call down the sky.
and I, I am not really anywhere I was when once I walked,
walked like a blind man, bruised and used and confused
by every sound and surface encountered and yet, I endure.
unsure of everything but my own heart, a compass of flint,
splintered and splinted, but mine own, no matter what is said
in mockery or dread of the nature of my passions and compassions.

I said it more than once.
but no one was listening
with more than ears used to
shutting out unpleasant truths
and the clarity of a kiss.
I said it more than once.
and I meant it the first time.
the rooster crows low and metaphor
transcends the atomic truths revealed
in the precise words chosen for exposure.
I said it more than once.
but the words were all words
that someone else had said and I,
I was made an echo of the shadows,
screaming dreams you cannot wake up from.
I said it more than once.
but the words mean something different
and sometimes even indifferent,
cobbled by careful hands
but hobbled in the handling.
I said it more than once
so that there would be no mistaking
the waking from the cold, cracked earth,
that rebirth would mean something more
than stretch marks and recriminations.

pain to peace. we release nothing but what we choose to,
refusing to offer more of ourselves than the nothings
we have left after the ground has found us filling
and we are no longer willing to ask more than a hole
and a means to fill it in once we fall in and surrender,
pretending we are bending our fates when we howl at the sun.
I will stand here, as promised, even if I stand alone forever.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

0 observations:

The Amomancer Tweets!

    follow me on Twitter

    Explaining the Tags

    You will note, gentle reader, that all works under this blog now display "tags" to help classify and assign the works for your review and enjoyment.

    These largely fall into 4 categories:

    Year of writing, e.g. "1999"
    Book published in, e.g. "from an unexpected quarter"
    Inspiring muse, e.g. "Aubergine"
    Genre, e.g. "erotica"

    We are still in the process of cleaning up the tags, so please bear with us. Yes, some muses are classified under more than one tag, some poems appear in more than one book, or not yet in any volume, and some years are...hazy.
    free counters