Can You Not Remember? – poem

When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember?
Go back to the place where you left that man dying.
This time you must bring him back with you.

I see you in my dreams. Your face is edged with battle.
I touch your forehead from a distant land.
The Earth glare is so bright. It washes the white memory from your mind.
Have you forgotten we come from the same place?
Settle, settle, peace, peace.

When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember?
Go back to the place where you left that man dying.
This time you must bring him back with you.

You are looking for something, demanding to be found.
Make your way back from that broken land. Return from that empty place.
There is nothing there for you. It holds a million shadows.
There are no friends there.
Settle, settle, peace, peace.

When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember?
Go back to the place where you left that man dying.
This time you must bring him back with you.

It is warmer here. Can you see the light? Trust it. It is safe.
It has lived a long time. It has seen much more than you.
You fight a demon that you once knew but the demon is already slain.
And from the corner of your eye you will see the scattered, sacred fire reform again.
Settle, settle, peace, peace.

From Love’s Longing

 

The Great Death – poem

I stood at the back of the funeral room. Very still.
Black dress. Black coat. It’s cold.
Purposely alone. Ears closed.
Not wanting to hear the tirade of sweet lies.

Did they not know you were already dead? I think they did.
They walk with the dignity of a funeral crowd into the tea room.
I can see them chatting happily through the window.
“What a fantastic guy he was. Cheese or meat sandwich?”

I sit outside, next to you. No one can see. No one bothers to look.
Sinking to fresh earth, I ask you why you did that to yourself.
Why did you cling to that which fed you a slow poison?
Why did you betray that which was guard to your soul?

There is no reply.
The words get taken by the chill wind.
You cry in your sleep.
The tears never see the light of day.

The sadness is not this death.
You are not even dead. You are just over there.
The sadness is the other death – the death that doesn’t end.
The one that follows behind, ever present with its grey, hollow touch.

Walk a bit further. There is a different land not far away.
The people in it have the magic to break the icy fingers of the great death.
I heard that you don’t even have to pay. However, you have to find their door.
It is only found by those who pay the other price.

This poem is from Love’s Longing