Never Enough Light

Never Enough Light

A Poem by Marie Anzalone

Something in me

is taking its first breath;

I feel the pangs

of incipient birth,

dragging me

through that convulsing canal

alongside it.

Relentless, an endless flow

of blackness

entering an infinite sphere

of light.


And you stand

just beyond my vision-

I still cannot see

if your hands guide,

or if they encourage me

to bear down, to push.

 If you will, in the end,

be the inspiration,

the page, the ink, the poem,

or the book of collected works.

My best of.

 

To write for another

 is still, betrayal.

You, I have replaced,

7 times.

I wrote 7 kinds of love poems

for them, seeking phrases that

could fill nights with longing

and days with exploration;

or was it the other way around?

I wrote to them,

wishing I had permission

to write for you.

To caress your skin with

my tongue the way

my words on their dead pages

might have caressed

your so-alive, vivid,

breathing, imagination.

 

Like Joan of Arc I stand,

wreathed in

consuming flames,

waiting for deliverance.

Into a new body; a new land.

An unfamiliar etching

of a landscape.

I hear a close-by call

of one who might find me there,

take the hand

of the thing that emerges

from those ashes-

wipe my newly formed brow

and say,


“it’s you, it’s always been you.”

To not flinch with my sincerest,

“I love you.”

Hold me closer when I release tears,

after wearing a mask of strength

and cape of indifference all day.

Evading memories

that could make oceans shatter

and stones, weep.

 

What if it really will take all seven

to replace you? What happens

when we awaken

from a dream of living,

to slip back into some routine

resembling a book

we once read about being alive?

The fox eventually sometimes

catches the hare

and toys with it until bored.


What interior spaces get crossed,

what gets left behind-

on that journey from great joy

into colder, more apathetic places

where the heart gets held hostage?


Maybe we are meant

to just spend our remaining days

as so many endangered wildflowers,

picked to adorn the table

of one miserly person who lives

alone in a cave with no visitors

and never enough light.

 


© 2017 Marie Anzalone



Author's Note

Marie Anzalone
written for someone I loved very deeply but could not be with. Version in Spanish here:
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/zorra_encantada/1953951/

picture is my own, from an early morning walk in front of my home in Guatemala


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Featured Review

So beautifully painful to read of light and love that has become so much memory, so much of poetry. I saw your note before reading the poem and wondered of you, and of your world, how things have been. Then the magnitude of what you've gone through hit me, and all the colors of your poetry changed to darker shades. Sending only light for your day now.

Posted 1 Month Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

The auspicious tale of uncalled for tragedies of love. Happy souls and love don't seem to go together it seems but your poem makes it very clear that the ultimate objective for love is the bliss (atleast i find it to be the one, apologies if that's not what u meant). thanks a ton for sharing:)

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

So beautifully painful to read of light and love that has become so much memory, so much of poetry. I saw your note before reading the poem and wondered of you, and of your world, how things have been. Then the magnitude of what you've gone through hit me, and all the colors of your poetry changed to darker shades. Sending only light for your day now.

Posted 1 Month Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

' An unfamiliar etching ~ of a landscape.~ I hear a close-by call ~ of one who might find me there,
take the hand ~ of the thing that emerges ~ from..'

How hard the words, birth-like forcing its way into a world where cycles and circles of light should exist Where loving, caring, possessing, protecting regretting has forced communication in many guises in the past.. or so it seems. Choosing the right moments, the right actions and words to get things right.. and sometimes.. often maybe, the words come too late.. or as happens, too soon but are placed elsewhere and - forgotten

Dear R. i've puzzled over this, feel my thoughts aren't at all on the ball but have tried.

My love and hugs as ever always, pray your world is being kind to you.. that you're surviging the many challenges tossed your way. x

Posted 1 Month Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

beautiful words, bursting with emotions and passions. you write beautifully
hope more can reach out to you and read your words.
the expressions and imagery were magnificent

Posted 2 Months Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

2 Months Ago

Pia, than you VERY much for such a beautiful and thoughtful review. I will be by ASAP to return the .. read more
As always , beautiful and touching , moving piece - Yos

Posted 2 Months Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

2 Months Ago

Thank you, Yos. I was just reviewing some memories on FB, and realized that it was just a few years .. read more

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

169 Views
5 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on August 31, 2017
Last Updated on September 7, 2017

Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xela, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual poet, essayist, novelist, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, .. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..