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My life’s first breath
Folder:
perseverance
my life's first breath
I found myself driving in the quiet
pondering on St. John of The Cross
and his dark night of the soul
all the while wavering on the road
laboring, on the cross carrying
a burden of my own…
the sands i built on
foolishly, crumbling as they erode
gave way and space for eternity
the place of my final
eventual, ended exile
into a restful and perpetual
infinite, blissful abode
the me i thought was
definite, turned out to be
irrelevant, as waves of melancholic
precedent, exasperating and indefinite,
displaced the i i mistakenly
presumed to call a known;
yet now I stand here naked
my hopes and dreams
deflated by every fraud conflated,
in search for an I to call my own
so now i weep here desperately
through the depths of i’s mortality
and come to find reality
a stranger yet unknown
how long the race run
valiantly, toward the I of immortality
down dark, disrobed duality
whilst my soul is flayed to bone!
i remain in surreality
perplexed at my insanity
to think i was that fallacy
i told myself repeatedly
in lies i spoke defeating me
an i who never was…
here and there
my metre impaired
clothed in fetid, fallacious
outerwear, afraid of the dark,
of my nude, exposed, enlIghtened
soul.
what if i find Him
and find i don’t quite
like Him?
will i ever be able
to fall back asleep?
though fear of fear dispels me
a fear of false compels me
to face that empty estuary
where i may find Myself
and Myself alone.
stripped and barren in the
wasteland, i’d fallen then to
stand within, and face the raging
reprimand, correcting my errant ego.
i never knew yet now I know
the i i crafted so long ago
must die his dreaded death
that I may awaken to
My life’s first breath...
There's a stratosphere of
There's a stratosphere of beauty, intricacy and reflective self-awareness in this remarkable contemplation. The flawless rhythm mirrors the turbulent strife punctuated by hope with its ocean-like rocking and cleverly enjambed line breaks. Your strategy to use a lower case "i" was a brilliant metaphor in itself and spoke volumes about your inner quest for some meaning behind life's farcical drama. The voyage is articulated with a startling and sublime sense of discovery:
"and come to find reality
a stranger yet unknown
how long the race run
valiantly, toward the I of immortality
down dark, disrobed duality
whilst my soul is flayed to bone!"
You continue to express pummeling angst with such intensity and eloquence that I'm feeling every word:
"to think i was that fallacy
i told myself repeatedly
in lies i spoke defeating me
an i who never was…
here and there"
But this is not just an emotional outpouring; it's profound insight and deep questioning. A turning point. I was delighted when you uncovered an intellectual diamond when you hit upon fear's circular, insidious snare: "the fear of fear".
The treacherous path you described so well is very much like the one traveled by St. John of The Cross, and the payoff just as unimaginably glorious as you imply in the last two undaunted, radiant and victorious lines.
A stunner!
I appreciate all the kind
I appreciate all the kind words you've spoken. I haven't written poetry for nearly a decade, until recently, that is, I started writing again. My wife left me, and began an affair with two separate co-workers. Well... damn... in September I was planning on setting my affairs in order, writing a suicide note, and eating a bullet. I got help instead; had myself hospitalized, started seeing a therapist, started medication and resolved instead to live. And now, would you look at that, the poetry came back. Funny how it works that way...
"Paper is patient." - Anne Frank
The poetry came back with
The poetry came back with beauty and wonder! And congratulations to you for taking the path of courage, hope and renewal: for choosing life! You should be proud of yourself. I know the struggles, and you certainly are not alone.
Thank you for your warm and candid reply.