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Open Poetry #46
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Of Dark
| Open Poetry #46 |
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Of Dark |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050
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When you’re done reading this please, just close your eyes, tight bow your head perhaps, and please, just, try and remember. Now listen to me. The sun is black right now. And this time don’t blame the moon either okay, it’s not her fault leave her out of it this time. But the day star is done, it’s just a vast foreboding lump of anemic coal. His wick just faded. You won’t know for another minute or so. But it has. El Sol is just played out he’s blanched and washed up colorless, depleted, and expended he’ ghastly. It’s okay though, we just consumed him with our needs that’s all, with our thirst for his warmth, with our lust for his compliance to mark our skin with his golden branding iron. Or maybe he just got tired of people saying that he’s hotter than hell, who knows? I don’t really damn blame him. Do you? Perhaps he just got tired of never being able to lighten up our lives. That was, always his fault you know. Wasn’t it? I mean we didn’t invent darkness right? That was never our idea. I’m pretty sure, that was here when we arrived, right? I mean some people like darkness and all kinds of scary crap like that. But me? Eh, not so much really. I deal with it because I don’t have a choice but to be honest with you I’m not all that fond of shadow though, which is kind of funny, since I am one. I was born in the womb of nature. My life, is a cave. A dwelling of dun, and ill light, murk, obscurity and vagueness. I mean sure, I’m kind of fun to explore now and again but don’t ever fall in love with one of us. We’re dark, and dank, mysterious, and even treacherous at times. If you still just can’t stay away from me, bring a rope at least, and maybe a match, believe me, you’re going to need it. Recently for the first time in my life, I had some company. She came in through the front door, during a storm. Well, not so much a door as it is an opening. But there she was, standing in the mouth of my world, scared, and wet, beautiful, and vulnerable yet stronger than anything I’ve ever known, holding a torch, asking, “is anybody there?” It grew quiet. A drip fell. And I coughed out a bat that was in a hurry for a blind date. She finally made a fire, and took off her clothes to dry them. I averted my eyes. She found some mushrooms to eat, and she pulled out a pen, and some paper, and she began to write. I couldn’t tell what she was writing, but, she was crying. I want to say that I felt sorry for her, but something tells me she doesn’t like it when people do that. But I still did. I felt so good that she felt safe within my being. I had never felt that before. I could tell that she was a poet. I could see it in her smile. And I just knew that whatever she has written in her life that she wrote it from places like this, places of refuge, real, or in her undying spirit. And that if you ever get to read them they will lead you right back here, to the soft recesses she keeps protected in the corners of her soul. She finally made a bed of soft branches and drifted off to sleep. I don’t think I was ever happier, than I was that night watching her smile and even tear as she dreamt. I blistery wind cut through my skin waking me up the next morning finding ashes for a fire, and a note from her writing pad dancing around in the air. She was gone. And in many ways, so was I. I don’t think I care to be a cave anymore. Oh and you know what; maybe it was an eclipse after all. A finger of light just snaked in, and touched my face. And now I can see that someone wrote something on my wall. It says, “To whence and whither, no one is more afraid than he who won’t come out from the… “ What does that mean, I just wish I knew? Oh god, if only they had finished their thought, to just once be free, from these jaws of the dark. |
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| © Copyright 2010 Richy - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Klassy Lassy Member Elite
since 2005-06-28
Posts 2187Oregon |
hmmm. Like the sun, the heart is hard to eclipse for long. This is a fascinating analogy. The walls we choose, and what we choose to write up on them are the pages of our lives. The stories always come to life better when they are illumined, because we are not born of darkness, but of emergence into the light. Don't you think it's truly a paradox that we can be blind in both the darkness and the light? What makes us see? But the fact is, darkness cannot survive the light, and light knows nothing of it. We build time capsules and pyramids, write tales and bury them in the quest to be remembered. No, I would not want to be a cave. They are too much like tombs, to hold the bones and the remnants of earth, but never the heart. Amazing poem! KL |
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Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Richard, I am amazed by the depth of your writing. Each piece that I have read today is so different and I think each is incredible. You are so damn talented - may I open my eyes now? Amazing writing. xoxoxo Alison |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050 |
Dearest Karen, I've barely met you, but I'm in love with you already  ! I was going to highlight some of the best parts of your reply, but I would have had to copy everything you wrote. I wasn't ready for that from you... You are special to me. Thank you for being who you are and sharing some of that with little old me, I really appreciate that! Alison sweet dear, promise me we'll never open our eyes okay? Lets stay in the forever of those who fail to see. Love you both, tons! Richard |
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Alison
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
I really like reading this again. A |
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gilead Senior Member
since 2008-03-10
Posts 1067nevada, USA |
An allegory fantastique! What a story well wrought, well told, and so effuse with meaning. I love the searching upon awakening unto the desire to know the rest of the writing upon the wall, and I think the poet in his heart has more than an inkling of what those words mean---to come out of the cave, to face the hard existential truth of being in the world, being of the world, and being for the world through the power of loving! These are just my rambling thoughts, Richy, and more a sense of enthusiastic conjecture, in response to a poem that resonates in me! Highest regards -- Art |
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Honeybee Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-26
Posts 5372Ontario, CANADA |
This is fanatastic, powerful, poignant and truly one of the best 'stream of consciousness' poems I've ever read... |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050 |
Allison, Art, and Honeybee, thank you guys so much for taking the time to leave me with such warm feelings. You guys are so appreciated!!! Have a wonderful day guys! |
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