Looking Out
Consciousness can be freed
From the body; and with it
The pain which ploughs
Its’ course
Through this too-tiny
constricted shell,
Slashed wrists gapes blood rivulets
Flowing down in heavy plops
Like blessing
Look at the cadavers
Empty of pain
They gleam pale and luminescent
With divine insight
From the body; and with it
The pain which ploughs
Its’ course
Through this too-tiny
constricted shell,
Slashed wrists gapes blood rivulets
Flowing down in heavy plops
Like blessing
Look at the cadavers
Empty of pain
They gleam pale and luminescent
With divine insight
posted by Medusa aka expiringpoet at 10:15 PM
6 Comments:
Wow! This poem hits me on so many levels.
The images are very striking. In my mind I can see someone flicking blood liturgically like holy water. I see the corpses like monks whose vow of silence has become permanent.
Osquer, thank you for appreciating it :) Like your blog, by the way, good works there :)
Something in this poem draws me closer to the painful past - my two siblings who both gave up thier beautiful lives respectively.
And I remember when I looked down on the windows of their coffins -
"Empty of pain
They gleam
Pale and luminescent..."
eh, what's this?
dark and gloomy, which i like!
good images!
Danny, so sorry for your double loss. It must have been very difficult for you. I feel that life is a constant challenge to pull through, but there is also beauty too though sometimes, we need to look hard to see it, but its there.
dsnake,
dark n gloomy, yes that's me. Wish I can write about more perky subjects. I try but comes out sounding real weird. Like not me.
Maybe someday :)
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