Monday, February 4, 2008
another mess of words on a web page...
In this moment, I ask, and I ask again,
Can I write a poem in this time?
Can this moment find the synaptic explosions,
The cataclysms, the refracted dreams, chaotic emotions
And weave them into words, into verse, another vision
Another dream, and find sifted amidst the flurry of my
Brain’s desire to control, and my heart, craving the
Complete abandon made so enticing in childhood?
I have seen those claims made by myself. I have seen the
Claims of others, and feel the pull of their words
While edging into a moment of quiet reflection where the
Dishonesty becomes clear again and again…
The catholics did not create sins of omission,
The lies, the missing placement, the completion of disclosure
Left for the fertile minds of the hurt, the jealous,
Empty of spirit, a man told in is heart that he has no right to
Speculate when pages of dreams are lost, when
Holes in curtains belie a truth, , an anxious desire for closure
A closure which only the truth told simply, a contrite
Soul falters, and a prideful front protects.
There came a moment, a quiet passage of time,
When the contrite felt an urge, felt the pull to move forward
And in that moment arose one thought
One dream that in pulling back, no pain will be felt
No skin needs to break,
And no pride needs to crumble.
I know today, in my heart, I stand here
Faultless. Indeed, in moment, I too will
Have the chance to propel myself past all
This. I just need the assurance, the one indulgence.
Tell me this once that I did no wrong,
That just for today, I need admit nothing…