to dust

a poem about drowning.

Rippling threads of countless memories

Swirling ceaselessly on the water at my feet

Rising in glory like flaming whips;

but all the more vibrant,

fraught with far more passion

And love.

 

Weedy-green sea stalks

With secrets to a severed past

Lie languid at the bottom,

beneath the golden crystalline glass surface.

Endearing and singing, they entreat me;

pull them up! pull them up!

Release them from these muddy banks!

Twist them, pull them, grind them, crush them;

grab them and yank;

grit your teeth and tear;

leave not ’til these muddy banks lie bare.

 

The waves lap at my feet like fire,

the coldest flames ever borne.

Above the water, the broken clouds scream:

a warning of encouragement,

a chanting of death;

a music of fire

from the depths of my heart--

yet deeper still;

a source unknown,

A Silencing Threat.

 

The water engulfs my feet,

swallows my legs;

to my hips, to my chest;

up the shoulders,

to the lips;

into the nose

And over the ears;

swallow the head,

the tips of the hair.

Enveloping me

in that muddy realm.

 

Yank and pull,

grind and scream;

these roots run deeper

Than I could ever dream.

Yet pull and pull

with grace long lost,

with hope now drowned,

with heart of fickle frowns.

 

Each tug turns weak,

each effort, travail;

fire fighting

and yet fleeting;

and there I stand drowning,

Pit against a foe

Whose enmity runs too deep.

 

The broken clouds scream once more,

But nothing shall pierce this muddy veil.

All light fleets and fades,

all strength fails and wanes.

“All lovers young,

All lovers must

Consign to thee,

And come to dust.”

 

The cold waxes, then wanes;

a warmth flickers, and endures

until the final throes,

Until The End Of Time.

 

Another yank, another pull;

another weakness, Another failure.

Grip slackens, water fills;

vision fades

 

to dust.

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

The flitting and fading in a rhythmic flow of lines and stanzas. Curious blend of dust which is dry and the liquid watery imagery. A true pleasure in your style. TFS