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Found Who I Am
Contributed by
ruby1987
on
Saturday, 4th October 2003 @ 07:05:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
EmotionalPoetry
|
It feels as if I have been sitting here gazing into oblivion nearly all my life. When in actual fact I have only been here in this house for one painful hour, after several years.
I sit still, still as the night. Everything else keeps on moving but in this moment I am paralysed, suppressed my all my childish fears. Outside I can hear the tired engines of old and overworked cars moaning and groaning like a pregnant women giving birth to her over due baby. And as high-pitched as a Banshee’s scream the tires of those cars set my ears to bleed as they hurdle down the street. The road is black as an ocean robbed of its jewels in the depths of Hell, with its waves of blood lapping fresh bones to shore.
I sit here in my grandfather’s room that looks exactly as it was when I was a child. I think hard and long about how far I have come with out him or anyone. But I do not understand that if he had to leave then why doesn’t he just leave because his presence still lingers here and will not leave me alone. His face it haunts, my once happy dreams. I can still hear his voice it chases away all the sanity in me like a bird set free never to return again. I’m totally desolate drowning in despair deafened by losing him.
The room closes in on me like I’m in an Indiana Jones film. I struggle to breathe as my memories surround me like a mob of bullies throwing stones at me. I run and run down the hallway into my childhood sanctuary. I lock the door to keep my memories out just like the grizzly monsters in the back of my wardrobe. I breathe in and out, recovering from the torture of my vignettes of happiness that now haunt me.
As I wade around nervously the memories catch up with me, like a hurricane they shake every bone in me. I rush in a hurricane of my own towards the window and yank it up. And through my closed eyes I suddenly see clearest and understand what was. In all my red I see a white dove flutter past and I wonder if the artist is a sad man, I wonder if the artist is a mad man, but he takes my cold hand and leads me into this place. In the distance I hear voices, the music of what was and past choices. Dust to diamond I feel brand new and able to cope with the ambivalent past, the unexpected present and the untold and unseen future.
In hope of new I bathe my streets in neon lite. I finally fall into him, fall into love, fall into true. I spiral down the mountains of castles built in my head, cascading visions of him, visions of red swelled in blue. My lack of perfection feeds my self-rejection and I create reason I can’t have him.
I finally fall into it; I finally fall into him into love, with what I can’t have and can loose I finally fall and learn how to handle endless pain and endless love. I fall and accept the past as a precious gift that was always destined to be mine just like the house my grand father left me over ten years ago. With what he left me I found who I am, what I was afraid of and how I feel now.
Crooked eye twisted vim.
Copyright ©
ruby1987
... [
2003-10-04 07:05:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Found Who I Am
(User Rating: 1 )
by norticus on
Saturday, 4th October 2003 @ 11:12:36 AM AEST
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| One of the things I like about poetry is the ease and speed of reading it. Refinement is the fire in which good poetry is forged. 2.6 on the Nortiscale. |
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Re: Found Who I Am
(User Rating: 0 )
by Former_Member on
Saturday, 8th November 2003 @ 05:04:11 PM AEST
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this is amazing! I love how you have expressed all your fears of your childhood prevoked by your grandfathers house. and it so gratifying when you find why the way you feel and how you are able to love someone that might refuse you. purely amazing. 10 out of 10.
Howard Woodrow |
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