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The Burlap Sack
Contributed by
invierno
on
Sunday, 29th March 2015 @ 10:56:13 PM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
A cattle-prod I hold to my heart
to think of then;
diminishing returns, the clinks for years
reminding me of when
I could not talk-
my eyes no more inclined to view another's
in the sun-
shadows my playroom, alone,
where I was everyone.
I shared a blanket with Jean Valjean, smothering
in Siberian misery- my gulag
Stalin's dream,
those years that should have meant the most-
I remain so chained to my own ghost.
A century sliced near half,
one might think one lay down the past,
and I do- in the boardroom, the dinners; of course
they have no part of me (they see)-
one hand wields the cattle-prod-
only one head nudges “Yes” in nod.
Copyright ©
invierno
... [
2015-03-29 22:56:13]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Burlap Sack
(User Rating: 1 )
by JamesStockdale on
Sunday, 29th March 2015 @ 11:09:26 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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I get it.
I'm sort of in the same boat.
Very deep and unique.
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Re: The Burlap Sack
(User Rating: 1 )
by RussellReinhardt on
Tuesday, 31st March 2015 @ 04:35:49 PM AEST
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a Message)
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Hello Boet
Ok if I read into this correctly. I know what you must be going through. Now I know everyone is not the same and we all deal with things in our own way. Let me tell you how I dealt with this. I came to the point where I realized that I was just to exhausted to carry it with me and I laid it down and left it behind. I can't begin to tell you how much better I feel from that day. God bless and be strong keep the faith remember you have friends that care.
Greetings
Rus |
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