Friday, January 23, 2009

destroyed...




suffocating in his house made of glass but not a single window...
gasping for air on the bed he made, using the stones he can't throw for a pillow...
at first the union made perfect sense, now he enters and exits under mistrust's surveillance
harvesting 9 month fruit that was planted last summer while
holding back tears that want to fall like autumn leaves
from a tree with a wetness reminiscent of spring showers
only to be frozen into snowflakes by the cold shoulder of winter
wanting to remain intact but just existing,
not living, not getting only giving...life freys and splinters
into like, love and lust
the nightmare of once fertile soil turned to dust...
that never really was...
rising from submission to a reigning position...like the phoenix
example of living, loving, resilience, feel the realness
a shift in the paradigm of what should be and what is...
behaving as though it were
ship abandoned because the friend is a "her"...and now hurt...
the balancing act is off key and askew
unsure of how to shift the weight of the righteous thing to do
but honor prevails, a knight donning his armor to stand against adversity
universally
but his valor is muted in misguided preservation of imaginary peace
so he slumps suffocating in his house made of glass but not a single window...
eyes closed, head resting on the stones he dare not throw...
destroyed…

4 comments:

NaturallyAlise said...

Girl, this is magnificent, the imagery is just, just..... amazing...

by the way things have been crazy, but I will give ya a call soon....

Anonymous said...

This is truly a masterpiece. This poem is a quiet justice for all the brothers who are trying to defy odds and expectations. Love is a trick(y)...thing...

This poem is special.

love,
D*

Torrance Stephens - All-Mi-T said...

that was beautiful - bravo

Monk said...

Damn. That's all I can say.