The library was no match to the chapel's
silence. Patrons turned on the wall fans
hoping to cool the hell in their minds -
but only to fan the flames. The holiness
that surrounds only contrasts my emptiness.
The longing to be better
manifested the need
to fool to feel
to be to be like
someone else. Him.
His cropped hair was, like mine, like cleanliness
is God. His submissive stare - seemingly harmless -
makes him so powerful. Innocence does not do damage.
It is exciting to think I am (like) him.
He strode solemnly to the altar. Silent as felt,
light and gentle - no sneaker screech. He is called
to holy ground. The young man who personifies beauty
of the flesh and soul, without blemish,
was made sacred by his longing admirers.
I have known too many.
My friends render me
inadequate without intention.
It is me, them -
We who sign the slots
for his limited attention.
How prayer could make one perfect! Or is it
a perfect veil. Beyond his trusting eyes
and his aura of chastity may be the embers of hell
anticipating, a ticking time bomb. While I,
feel that I may have lacked blessing. Was it my selfishness?
To utter a complaint no one would listen to -
only the air that will echo my heart's discontent
of my self
and flow it back to ears too deaf to hear.
Disconsolate, I rested my head on the armrest,
forehead-high, too high to carry any arm.
Closing my eyes, I wished it was his shoulder.
Sacrifice; It is him who might appease me, the refugee.
His warmth, the only heat this coldness seeks. Perhaps,
I am still a boy looking for some friendly face
of a brother, a man, who, at last, I can trust.
I opened my eyes. Good morning, he is leaving.
How could the chapel I seek to enter
be closed to the man who needs it most?
Author notes
They say that the writer is not necessarily the persona. That is true, however, this is one of the few instances when me as the writer and me as the persona become so related that it is difficult to distinguish what was written and what really happened.
There is this friend of mine who to me, has become my older brother. He teaches in the school I study in, and he's just five years older than me. He likes going to the chapel, and I like going to the library. He is very religious, and I am not as much. But still, there is this brotherhood between us that I have been hoping to God will develop into a deeper relationship (for lack of better words.) But sometimes I am impatient, and I am held back by the idea that I could ruin everything if I push further at the wrong time. I guess that's the way it is with any relationship with other people.
Another thing special is that my friends told me that I look like this friend of mine. Ironically, I have always been impressed by the way he looks back then. (You can tell that I don't think much of myself.)
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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oh man. this is amazing. i noticed that in your profile you said something about people telling you that what you write is not poetry. but poetry, i believe is anything that comes from the heart, and damn is this poetry or what.
i love your style. very unique. and your words just smother me with intense emotion. i felt myself sinking into the story.
beautiful beautiful write. i <33 it. sorry if u wanted constructive criticism, but i wouldnt change this for the world. absolutely wonderful.
Peace && Blesses
~Rain -
"The longing to be better manifested the need," Congrats on a great write, you are a true master and it humbled me greatly to read this
keep it up my friend,
halleluja
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Intensely wow
Its hella intense and a strong write -
Intense...
As if your piece was not intense enough... then to read your author's notes along with it? WOW.
You are incredible...
and should definitely think more highly of yourself...for if you don't see the genuine appeal within yourself...who will?
xo
Sahabah -
a very interesting poem, alot of good word use, and an interesting structure. a nice change from the sort of thing i usually read
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A true honor to read your work
What it is you’re a Master of Words. Your young in body but old in mind. I have to be honest your write is a masterpiece. Your really amazing. I find your writes interesting, provoking like a magnet that brings me in to your writes wanting more.(Lisa)
"Sacrifice; It is him who might appease me, the refugee.
His warmth, the only heat this coldness seeks. Perhaps,
I am still a boy looking for some friendly face
of a brother, a man, who, at last, I can trust."
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This piece was very good, and kept me reading. My attention is limited, but to be kept like this is a greater compliment than I could ever word. I loved the flow, the chaotic bits and the smooth-as-a-river bits as well. Elegantly done.
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