Definitive

A hollow wall. Its fixtures extend no light,
Its walkway turned into cracked and shattered glass.
The ivy walls are browning while mysterious creatures writhe
In its confines. A glance, and a door appears into a
Celestial hiding place. Inside resides a family
Unlike any other. Tulip and daisies once thrived here,
Now thorns have choked the faces I love.
Grass cannot grow where watering does not exist,
Neither can my memories in a place of corruptness.
This was my home.
No more.

Where has my childhood gone?
It no longer lives in these halls,
These monuments which echoed
My thoughts and screams; this woodwork
That bore my inscriptions; these windows
Through which I spied distant horizons.
This bed that comforted my tears.

A serene lake, it smelled of watery weeds,
In it swam a nobility of swans,
We stood there like firm guardians.
We watched in camaraderie and mutual friendship;
We were the forest wanderers.

Dirt engraved into my hands and stinging my eyes,
Results of overconfidence. Scrapes and cuts
Covered my body, but all I could understand was
The pain. This same pain was the only comfort
To surround me after these years disappeared.

My grandmother, in happiness and hidden discontent,
Labored in the pressing heat to make me more comfortable.
Her deft hands shook controllably as she weeded her yard.
The smell of her kitchen, the gleam of spring green.
This is past.

My grandfather, smoky and resigned,
Scratched my face with his wool sweater.
His face wore wrinkles and deep crevasses;
I understood his war.
He sat and watched silently, yet his grip on me
Was vast unexplainability.
He was past.

Those which are true, those that are right,
Pass into unconscious suffering. Those that are good,
Those that are true, betray and scorn and torture.
Those who are evil, lead me into innocent vileness.
I walk in the shadow, and I fear evil.
Ashes of the mighty walls blow vivid sanctity;
Hope resides in this dust.


The walls are tumbling, as Jericho and its parapets.
I stand firm in the central square as my life explodes
In psychedelic colors and burns into black.
Where am I?

Marked Walls

I walked past the wall. I stood near the wall. I leaned on the wall. I liked the touch of the wall. It’s differing rocks. It’s warmth from the sun.

So many stones made up the foundation. Some were cracked and chipped, rough, unshapen. Others smooth, white-washed, uncommonly perfect. None were extremely beautiful, but all were different. I liked that.

Behind each lay a vision, a bright unfailing memory. Of the past, of the future. Behind some was pain. Behind some was joy. And behind all were people.

Behind one that was homely, and rough, but clear and white: a boy with curly black locks walked under the wall with his mother, dropping his prized possession. His blankie. He doesn’t notice till later his emptiness.

If you wait but a minute:

A small girl, blonde perfection, also walks past with her mother. She picks up the blanket and claims it as her own.

If you but wait still another 20 years:

A beautiful wedding. Decorated with finery, bright lights expanding the purity, music blazing into brightness. A happy couple sailing around the room. Floating. They greet and hug, kiss and laugh. She, a perfectly blonde wife, he a curly-haired bright-eyed husband.

Two years later:

A baby. It’s present from mother: a tattery old cloth. It’s blankie. It had retained it’s color. Baby blue. It had retained it’s smell. Snuggle bleach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another stone, black and porous, stood out from the surrounding others. It did not give way on the first tug, but after a little work it gave way. As I pulled it from it’s rest a billowing cloud of smoke spat forth from the empty crevice. And a most horrific sound of wailing appeared through the smoke.

As it cleared, I could just see a woman bent over a lifeless figure, deformed and bloody. She too was blackened and I could tell was in extreme pain, from physical or emotional I could not tell. Her arm was broken. But with that broken arm, she nestled the young man’s head. The car had expelled him upon collision, throwing him into this wall. He had died instantly. His mother had been driving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yet another stone. This one was broken. Broken into many shards. It’s sight saddened me.

The person behind resembled the stone. Broken.

Her chipped nail polish: broken.

Her eyes: broken.

Her life: shattered.

She sat alone. In silence. In her own wasting away. Her pockets were full, her heart was empty. And she pondered the death of the world. She loved only one person. And she waited here to meet him. He told her he would be there. By this wall she waited to see if she could possibly feel happy. This moment would change her life. It relied on the man she trusted. Yet in her mind a black cloud covered hope.

He did not show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I laid this stone in its place and walked away. I was weary of the broken stones. There were many more broken ones than whole and bright, and it made me cynical. I left the wall knowing that more stones would be added to it in time. But for now, I could no longer fathom them. I could no longer think of the pain that so easily found its way into every foundation in this city. I tried to think of the happiness here contained, but I could only see gray. I could only see through a magnifying glass, seeing only interiors, not angel-faced exteriors. It hurt too much. And what hurt more was looking into my mirror.

Dull living.

Dull sleeping.

Twilight.