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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 26053
Category:
personal_life
Posted: December 17th. 2006 6:23:12 PM
Views: 766 |
The legacy of Widdershins (long & painful read)
by Widdershins
Age Group: Adult
The jarring moments pass by
little wisps in the blackened sky,
they want to effect me, want my reply
but all I do is silently let them
pass me by…
my silent peace is waiting
to be only disturbed by one sign
not by me, but someone else’s line
to my unspoken plea… I wait for what’s mine
no intrusive words to be sent
not a thought to reach out—
all the lonely people… I thought to comfort
perhaps mirrors of me? never…
never will I let it be…
my face is that of laughter
when deep inside something has died
I take it well… lying, staring at the ceiling
thinking, I never want this new part
to ever end, never…
it’s the only thing I hang onto
while I let go of the ledge
suffering the terror of slipping below,
shattering… at the bottom of it all…
but instead, I wake up from a nightmare…
supposed to be mine, this dream? no
never shall I seek it’s comfort out again…
and yes, I do have a reason to smile…
let me smile a little, just for a little while
I twist the ring on my finger
and contemplate it’s sublime meaning
it’s mine alone, and here is the cloud
of comfort, the only one I will seek
my rider had rode through the night
to join me in a different form than I’d thought
those proverbial things…
like snow under a sun
my shining new life has begun to gently melt
the frozen tears that cling to the ground
in flakes or icicles…
underneath is a flood of memory…
a child, searching for her mother
the child sits alone in contemplation,
a last unicorn gazing out at the sea…
longing for her forest, the animals and the trees
every small flower, all the fields of greens…
yes, I am alive…
I reach out into the renaissance of my life
and bring in its dark ages with a resigned sigh
they’ve been plighting out there long enough
all have seen, and so have I…
no despair whittles away my heart
no guilt gnaws away at my mind
for my doors are closed, my history past
their spinning stars will still forever shine…
this despair is no longer mine…
the special touch of each little brush
has been worn away with time
and now only ghostly images remain
they remain to merely remind…
the lonely road I thought to walk upon
was indeed only shined by my soul
and though I thought at times it dimmed
another would always come
to take my hand and lead me on…
the sacred grove where lies piles of books
full of magic and fantasy…
realms and kingdoms, these are my home
where in I wield my own legacy…
and though I may die in the eyes of others
my story lives on within
and no matter how little anyone else might care
I shall forever be free…
my trust forever in a lock, unmoving
no words have ever been less soothing, than the truth
coming out, the one I always knew, and so
my ponder shows me glimmers
of the times when certain angels deserve to die
when they forsake the right path
and they do die, they die deep within me…
as the room becomes the town,
the town becomes the country… and all throughout
I can see the broken wings being distanced from me
I can see the black form lying cold and still
no rose to decorate its demise…
only laughter rings from the desperate and hungry death
its poisonous toxin, its euphoric vampire’s needs
all bleed away before me, seeping into the deep
into the cage of memory, forever bound
and from now… forever untouched…
I will it as such, for in me my confidence suffers
knowing how little I had been able to achieve
no matter how hard I’ve tried… to really be
the lie that was being spoken to me continually…
and I thank the death of the king of tragedy,
for no longer can his words poison and eat away at me
not a drop of jealousy is left for the deceased
and no mourning… none at all…
only a reminiscent fury remains… with nothing
to lose, and absolutely nothing to gain…
destiny reaches out, it calls for me
it’s blinding me, pulling my aching limbs away
it implores me to get up and fight the fatigue
to fly, and forget all that I should…
to realize… it all meant nothing…
like in death, destiny will not wait
I try to catch up to her impossible gait,
and when I don’t succeed…
she picks me up like my mother, and carries me…
sometimes I am choked with grief
letting my tears soak her robes
sometimes it hurts beyond belief, but I will never
again let go…
the dark beckons me still…
the elusive and fantastic thrill…
the darkness, the one that I’ve found
was mine alone… mine…
that legacy belongs to me, and no name
shall ever place filth on it again
no one can ever stain its beauty…
no period of someone’s life
can ever elude and confuse me…
the rain river sea is swaying
as my unconscious waves wash over me…
perhaps I’d been interesting? never
only to my true shine
the only soul that is ever mine…
though imperfection riddles and taunts me
I care not and think about it rarely
for each smarting thought seeks to destroy
my mortally ill image of self-worth
and now, yes… now destiny is carrying me…
finally granting me a visit
to Lady Truth…
I find her words do comfort, and soothe…
Oh but those shadowed passages, those words that moved!
all so captivating… and tied, wrongly
no one can do it justice…
and all that has been built,
reprimands me sourly, for having been
so webbed in… when its beauty struggled,
trying not to suffocate in the terrible need
to be completely individual and free…
then the little voices that reach through the dark,
their tears falling before me are the sting
of acid seeping into my cut skin
the tenacious thread reaching to have a part,
and departed with a tiny bell…
what freedom I saw in that departure,
emotions not yet quelled as I sit in my damnation hell…
it has been no mistake that I’ve separated the truth
from what has been the image of a lie
though what was in me was never wrong,
or in any way falsified, I was and am ever
right… the rain in my heart,
so long ago that I sang to those cloudy depths
the sweetly singing love that captured me,
the feeling that it was wrong…
god how I hate it all…
no little bell has caused self-loathing,
it is something that’s been enfolding the sanction
forever, it seems… when it’s only been years…
my tears in the rain are screaming of the sorrow
etched in my DNA, how strange
what a play of light and talks in the night,
the call of the day, shining my way, and how
with a gesture I’d ruined it all…
I’d let it fall…
my anger is beyond my disbelief,
no more can it be defeated by choking grief,
all I care for is to murder the hate itself,
let the poison out, let my tears well,
let me stir gently to find I’m sleeping on a shoulder,
the only one who they say is ‘worthy to hold her’,
only one man to hear my call
as I chose it so…
was my standing in the shadow and light,
waiting for the wrong hand to reach out
all some fantastic dream? it boils me alive
to know that I’d wasted so much…
on a bastard so undeserving, oh how I hate him so…
no… wait… my enigma would never
let this be my tether,
I shall not stoop down to hate…
but there is one thing that bothers me
the sharing of such a nice dream,
how I’d pushed it out to reach as a message
and how it hadn’t been received at all…
my naivety surpasses all, it seems
a fool I’ve become, that’s what its made me,
such a damned fool! a mere tool to forget!
you’re no angel at all… noted I, as I saw
a little insignificant drop of rain fall,
to join the ocean of pointless events,
mere memories, easy to forget…
the waves and the trains, the pointless complaints,
all so useless and futile, and all alone
the ring on my finger is twisting
in agitation as I let it soothe me,
the one handle that will never elude me
its substance and message deeper than anything else,
my savior, my strength… the only ledge
that won’t crumble beneath me, but will keep me
far from the chasms of below…
and the hurt and the pain is merely melting snow…
the sea is calling out to me,
threatening me with phobic depths,
memories of the past that do not wish me to forget,
well… so maybe they won’t be forgotten, merely
locked away deeply, safely
away from any prying eyes,
away from my own hands, never to cause me strife.
I’ve sleepwalked through the pain,
been blindfolded again and again,
and yet no fire burns me enough
for me to stop walking, now awakening,
no longer waiting or suffering,
no more tragic paintings or reaching
no more lying to each mirror I face
of this unholy filth I wish to see not a trace…
my undoing had been involvement,
once it had saved my life…
but its time has past,
little box:
it’s time to die…
you bring no ecstasy, only false prophesy,
and no longer shall I listen to this deceptive lie…
go away, Mont Blanc, go away to die…
survivor instinct has brought me light
and through all of the darkness it shines
my soft treading is lighted with boxes
but no trinkets are suspect in my hands,
they are traveling far away to distant lands
the fields of death, that which I call the past…
your grip is lost…
the plate of food has lost its thrill
no nutrition brings health to my will,
only a ring around my finger…
the only longing I feel is to be alone no longer,
and I’m not…
my friends bring tears of solace to my eyes…
they comfort me no matter how the pain tries
to bury me in the depths…
memories, oh yes, that I Can forget…
and I do, lost in the waves of joy
of being with my ring bearing lover,
the joy that no other can bring…
the one love that seeps deeper under my skin,
for its unconditional nature… its understanding,
the move that made the sun shine out,
and begin the tedious task of melting…
the pages so insignificant,
all of it lost, all of it…
what has it cost me? everything
and I regained everything, for the fool
can never lose the most important part:
the one silent drum of the heart,
that keeps beating despite all the inflictions…
no words can exploit or corrupt it,
no magic can ensnare it,
no one can take it and expect to keep it out,
for to my chest it is mortally bound
and innocence has been the key…
that helped me survive the journey…
no hells can persuade me to leave
when I can still hear the calling of the greens,
when I still have my powers and my empathy
to join as one with my Mother Earth,
and watch in awe as to new life it gives birth,
there is no play that can poison me,
no fencing matches to bury a foil in my chest,
my chain mail of love fends off all
and no matter how deeply it penetrates,
nothing can ever shake
the unmistakable feel
that the real wounds will never be able
to destroy the rhythm of life,
the survival tactic of my warrior self…
I’m not afraid to live, to survive
I’m immune to this particular shade of ugly lies…
oh but the child in me weeps,
though for the most part it sleeps
but every now and then…
it calls out, searching in a needy way
for the childhood she has no more…
each year stirs as a waking girl
all but the last, the weeping woman that I be
watching silently…
each wave…
of the sea of dear memories…
the eyes of Lyria stare piercingly
stares across now, up to the skies…
a maid waiting by the road,
planting her small flowers
methodically and stoically…
her gentle figure swaying
to each tune that strikes her…
and waits for the lone knight who loves her,
to unearth the buried joy in her depths…
to unlock the smile
that she has forgotten to show
forgotten to know what it is,
yet longs for it, unknown…
I’m alive…
I’m alive…
December 17, 2006
Author's Notes: I feel so humiliated, disrespected, and filled with grief. -.-
Author's Location: Szeged, Hungary
More Poems: Widdershins has posted 234 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Widdershins - Click HERE
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