In the Midst of it

Not usually one for poetry but here goes...

No winds, no windows for smoke to escape,

a hundred of my colleagues, there as each day before,

there are no smiles, there is no calm,

but my mind wonders, and I, indifferent, do rest.

I watch the flames, and the colours as they do soar,

I'm ignorant to fear and unknowing of panic,

I do not cry, or run, or scream,

but sit and contemplate.

Beauty, amongst the horror, I see beauty.

Clear and not singed. 

It offers itself to me, freely and without thanks,

Why me? Is this my blessing, is this my purpose?

Was I born to die a martyr, was I born to die in vain.

Now, there is no religion, no family to keep me whole,

here I am raw, I am naked, I am weak.

And as the colours turn to black, and my head does hit the floor,

I think of all wonders and all the colours and all the beauty,

I think once more of the flames, no sight graces me now.

Life was but a moment, and within memory I live now.

 

Author's Note

Any comments would be welcomed, and please don't hold back! :)

Reviews

[steven sundell]

I must tell you, after reading this, that for a poem as pure and fearlessly written, especially with a theme of self doubt or rather, at least I felt, with a hopeless sense, it gave me images throughout while reading thus one that yielded great imagery of inspiration. In short, I thank you for a VERY, deep perspective of ur prose.
Steven