Why didn’t I kneel more deeply to accept you,
inconsolable sisters, and, surrendering, lose myself
in your loosened hair. The days grow long, and the nights grow
longer. Angels cry out to me as I walk the long lonely streets.
The juniper bends, as if it were listening. Angels, they say,
don’t know whether it is the living they are moving among, or the
dead. Where I am headed I no longer know. Moving as though
there is a large piece of metal in my chest, and a magnet
thousands of miles away.
Every angel is terrifying –
for beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still
are just able to endure.
Loneliness is not a part of just this lifetime. What does
the after-life hold for us? The tears of angels have glittery
eyes. Their frowns are just as beautiful as their smiles, and
just as frightening.
Give me your hand. Send me the faith that you have been
preserving for the day you find Him, your savior. One giant leap
of faith is easy when everyone you ask is so sure. The flame
grows high as you wait in thought. Give me your hand.
And they look in wonder at the regal hand that has silently
lifted the human face to the scale of the stars,
forever.
She told me the day that she would be leaving me forever.
She told me how it would happen, and she said, “To think I might
not see those eyes makes it so hard not to cry.” And as we said
our long goodbye, I nearly did. Her hero could do nothing.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes, and she’s gone.
Every living creature dies alone.
When one comes to accept fate, does it make it easier.
Loneliness and denial are seen as two, but are only ever one.
Nature is simply watching, she does not ease the pain, the
suffering, the trial and error. We call out to her for help; we
assume that Mother Nature is the deepest connection to our purest
soul; we assume that our hands will be held, and we will be
lifted up out of our mess of cinder and smoke, naked as we came.
Just to be patient toward all that is unsolved in our hearts and
to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and
like books that are written in a foreign tongue does not satisfy.
We love locked rooms, hidden doors, secret entrances because of
the mystery inside. We are impatient to find the hidden key.
Disappointment most often is the resident of that room, and we
know as much, but there is still that itching curiosity. We love
books written in foreign tongues because to be able to read the
adventure, you must first go on an adventure. We are slaves to
fantasy and illusion, but, alas, are servants to obedience and
patience.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly. Riverboat taxis
appear on the shore, waiting to take you away.
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds, and you’re gone.
There, on the wall, pure as the lines on the palm of a blessed
hand, are the names of all that have past. People visit this
wall to cry, to remember, to laugh, so that when they go home
they have the freedom to not think about the pain. Have they all
turned into angels? Angels that do nothing but startle the
beloved ones. Are angels simply beautiful ghosts? Is that how
we should treat them.
My role in this mess is not something that I can be proud of, but
it’s all going to change. The hero lives on.
Author notes
many different things were used to help create this. songs, elegies, a quote, a line from a movie... i thought i had already given them credit - apparently that is not so. let's see if i can find them all.
Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegies, Iron and Wine, Snow Patrol, The Beatles, Donnie Darko.
A contest entry
- Let's Talk Prose. by animated lies.
800 points, ended June 29, 2007, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
are we awake or are we dreaming?
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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wow. this piece itself feels like a journey. i enjoyed it. - NANGALEEMA
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Congratulations on your gold trophy win, but I don't think this is right for my contest. Hope you understand.
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I can't help but admire this piece merely for the fabulous philosophy behind it all. Its intriguingly thought provoking, the way you have presented your story with such wisdom. Magical. Thank you for entering my contest.
♥ animated -
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You're welcome, and thank YOU for the gold! <3.
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Oh and I think I have a new fav writer ;-)
theres a lot of depth and wisdom in here..
Iloved so many phrases it would be impossible to list them all. This one is brilliant "The flame grows high as you wait in thought."
And this I understand so well.
"Moving as though there were a large chunk of metal in my chest, and a magnet thousands of miles away.
Anybody dropping by. Take the time to read this. Its worth it.
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such a kind comment, and i didn't respond. i'm sorry. well. better late than never. even if late is a year and a half. haha.
i wish it was all me. a lot of these lines were drawn from many other works. it was something that was not only allowed, but encouraged for my assignment. i credited all of it on my original paper, but apparently forgot to do so here. i feel like an ass now haha.
thank you so much for the kind words champrins. i really do appreciate it. :]
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Standing Ovation!!!!!!!!
There, on the wall, pure as the lines on the palm of a blessed
hand, are the names of all that have past. People visit this
wall to cry, to remember, to laugh, so that when they go home
they have the freedom to not think about the pain. Have they all
turned into angels? Angels that do nothing but startle the
beloved ones. Are angels simply beautiful ghosts? Is that how
we should treat them. LO-AMO SALUTE!!!!!!!!
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Thank you oh so very much!
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I really like the wording and images in this. It's very beautiful. Can't pick a favorite line - too many of them. I liked it!
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Thank you very much! I wrote it for a class assignment, and I am in love with it.
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