Mode Of Slaughtering

Life

Blindfolded I groped,
to cross the line―
not to become carnivore.

The gorge was deep.
I turn cold. The echo of
silence boomed in fatherless
seeds of mercy.

I will warn myself,
and ask why was there transcendence,
when the impulse was
to hang?

Thinking of truth
was difficult. Your footsoles
develop blisters. No home
was in sight.

Accepting the challenge
you start searching the
temples where deities were
dismembered.

Reviews

[DIVYA]

A picture of hopelessness formed in my mind. There is a critical battle being fought here and the search for truth is ending in bleak places. Mercy seems to be losing out to coldness. The dismembering of deities presents a powerful picture. Well done.

[willweb]

I'm with Carl on this, it kind of took me into a flame lit tomb where secrets are carved into the stone and truth is a forgotten feeling. Nicely done

[carl]

that was a nice little if bit of scary trip ( , put me in mind of tomb raiding. Especially liked this stanza in and of itself.
"Thinking of truth
was difficult. Your footsoles
develop blisters. No home
was in sight."
The pursuit of truth is difficult and the the steps taken to find it can be blistering and seemingly no home in which to rest seems on the horizon. Thanks for the post - carl