Dispatches from the Suicide Hours of Immortality

The poem is a pied piper for the rats in my mind

Poems for Days – Day 14 – 4.5.20

[as chills strum my spine]

 

a glass metamorphosis

sparsely occupies this gray morning

 

upon awakening

this chasm begged a crossing

 

building

toward a quiet mad rush

thru the vortex of my solitude.

the sunday times 4.5.20

near misses

 

fractious turns

persistence adheres

 

arrival enters thru

points of departure

 

the sights remain unsung

the songs unseen

 

the heart will hide

in the strangest places

 

yet always remaining

within our grasp.

*

lay of the land

 

for each

the other

 

then

maybe

not

 

doubt pervades redemption

worthiness derides acceptance

 

fighting inward

 

the breaking tides

of here and now

 

crashing unseen

from the distance

of then and after

 

swirled in a madness

that presence heeds not

 

but fear knows

all too well.

*

no sense

 

cold upon the nerve

 

steel these eyes

within this stone

 

nothing leads

far enough away

 

the only choice

is to endure

 

as nights fill with

the heaviness of the heart

 

the glass votive

of love’s circled flame

 

distorted by memory

bent by the light

 

into the truth

for which we long.

*

turning toward

 

looking down old roads

nothing more to see

 

yet still drawn

to the fading view

 

somewhere else is

everything to come

 

and the only link

bridging last and next

 

is exactly

where i

must be.

***

“Dawn collects our names

through the dark hours,

cradling us all in the

pearled petals of

our dreams.”

  • Holaday Mason

Poems for Days – Day 13 – 4.4.20

[hold the line]

 

fire is the way

to walk thru

 

to use its burn

and warmth

to advantage

 

to not turn away

in its presence…

 

we are meant not to fight it…

but to harness it

 

to embrace it

to make it ours

 

to solder our armor and forge our path

and to leave a blazing trail as a beacon

for those still searching for light.

 

 

 

Poems for Days – Day 12 – 4.3.20

[out of phase]  

 

vaulted from knowingness to abyss

 

time stammers

in the dark wake

of unexpected tides

 

conclusions far gone

hindsight is a crack in the sky

 

nothing matters but the moment at hand

and that the moon and stars can still look beautiful

despite all that goes on

down here.

 

 

Poems for Days – Day 11 – 4.2.20

[pain and purity]

 

making sense of loneliness

squared back to one

 

removed from circulation

for the greater good

 

collecting the spent flares discarded

along the broken streets of the mind

 

kindling for a greater fire

to burn for the duration.

Poems for Days – Day 10 – 4.1.20

[fine line]

 

darkness encircled

by halos of light

 

fear snares the mind

in times of duress

 

certain unavoidable confrontations

will need to be addressed

at many given moments

 

progress remains paramount

 

keep going

 

there is no better way to overcome

than straight on thru.

Poems for Days – Day 9 – 3.31.20

[shades of day]

 

all the whiles

slowed to a crawl

 

examining the walls

with a fine-toothed neurosis

 

a few voices

here and there

 

windows cracked for

a semblance of fresh air

 

heart and mind widened

 

wingspan stretched

to accommodate these spacious new hours

waiting to be filled.

 

 

 

Poems for Days – Day 8 – 3.30.20

[don’t look]

 

trailing time

in fractures of mind

 

severed lines bleed

beyond the rivers flow

 

crawling down thru centuries

in directionless endeavor

 

leaving but the braille of broken branches

to tell our dying tale.

Poems for Days – Day 7 – 3.29.20

[ever onward]

 

up from the count

 

slow

the roll of resilience

rebuilding

 

gathering momentum

as the mountains reveal the sun

to the canyons below

 

burning

thru the misty fog

of mourning.

the sunday times 3.29.20

feverbreak

 

thoughts of abyss

as the rain comes down

 

all into another

yet still as one

 

beads

droplets

torrents

 

white smoke rising

from the dark horizon below

 

as the heart’s infinite depth is revealed

 

it’s unspoken joys and sorrows

finally free to sing.

*

to ruins, to dust, to mist

 

the tied hands of time unlocked

all becomes numberless

 

nothing to hold back

nothing to set free

 

gone

is the way

we are

 

only

now

is

here.

*

of hope and harrow

 

stone letters

in lost wells

 

oceans flushed

from the eyes

into the hereafter

 

standing alone

in the crowded

centuries

 

heart in hands

hands to sky

 

take it all

and let me cry

no more.

*

sunday’s return

 

different spaces

 

colors ever changing

in matters of the heart

 

turns of tide

circumstances unseen

 

nothing yet to hope for

beyond another day.

***

“Life lived

is life darkened at the edges

and made more luminous at its heart.”

  • David St. John