Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Brokenness: Gated Gardens

Some more poetry. Brokenness. Depression. Truth.

Gated Gardens 

Part I

she rides in on her white horse.
a shimmering glow of light
obscuring her shape, appearing
and vanishing with no thought to consequence.
her beauty growing dark
such as night has never seen.

what is truth?
how does she time her appearances?
does she prefer the night to the day
the good to the bad
right over wrong?
does she wave her wand
draw a line in sand, yelling,
“ready, set, go!”
and wait for her children to finish?
does she expect the pull of the moon to erase
the boundaries she has set?
she comes
and then she isn’t
fleeting as the mist
when heated by the sun.

who am i?
and who are you?
knocking at my door
to see me in the night.
the question
of my own truth
what i choose
no better, no more right.
you come slinking in
reminding me
of what i have hidden
the secrets i keep
lies deceit dishonesty
they are truth
masquerading herself.
ignorance is bliss-
fleeting as the mist
when heated by the sun.

all i have is this-
you and me.
perhaps it is the truth
which keeps us from one another
but will it keep us together?

what our hearts cannot contain
the burgeoning of empires
grandiosity of light
creating cracks in what we had
sewn up tight.
this place where i live
paint peeling from empires
weeds growing in cracks
doesn’t love the truth
so much as it may have
once upon a time.

the time it takes to forget
among cries
ringing in my ears
its dissonance a cacophony
only of what is lost.
deceit equalized by justice.
the fine mist that lined
my soul
when heated by the sun.

Part II

the truth
puts gates up in gardens
guarded by flaming swords.

Part III

the truth shall set you free.
to what?
to whom?
to be the man
walking out on his wife
of 30 years
because, the truth is,
i don’t love you anymore.

and i’m just not happy,
i must be honest
with you…
i’ve met someone new-
but don’t worry,
i’ll take care of you.

in the end
you fight for
all you have,
all you wanted.
holding on to the last vestige
of what was true
of what was you and i and us.
squabbling over dimes
when laughter used to carry
us on its whimsy through field
through forest   through life.
that was our freedom
that was our truth.

when we were young
the truth
was our fantasy
of a home
of a love
where we were free.

i love you, still
always forever eternally
at the gate
of this guarded garden
growing thick with weeds-
crowded with thorns
sticky and poisonous
hard and dense.

i stand here
bathed in so much light
and i am pierced
eroded into a presence i no
longer recognize.

what was freedom
became a choice
what was good
became what was right
what was truth
became what goes on behind closed doors.

she’s knocking on both sides
wanting in
begging to be let out.
it’s the truth, you know.
and god only knows what
the truth will do.
the truth will set you free.

Part IV

does the truth
never build
but only destroy?
she is selfish
thinks only of herself
what is best for her.
she takes for her own glory
extinguishing races
ravaging lands
pilfering plundering pillaging
what is rich from the ground.
the dirt
sands of time running
through my fingers.

you should never lie
always tell the truth
it’s better
it’s bitter
she won’t let me go
standing at my door
reminding me.

Part V

i am vanquished
by images and scenes
that flood over me
calling for the telling
whispering their secrets
in a tongue only i understand.

i am asked to translate
the trace of her touch
the heat of her embrace.
in her presence
i am powerless
and bowed at her glory.
the brief aura of truth
the burning rage of secrets.
what i don’t remember,

is this true?
the appalling horror
of what i won’t speak.
is equally as true.
it brings me to my knees.
the announcement,
“i don’t know.”

this is truth.
the line i draw in sand
marking borders
where i build my castle
held in my lover’s arms.
shivering in the light of oblivion.
lost and found.
known and still cared for.
smiling at the tranquility of routine
the rote, everyday.
without the fight
of losing her-
what i desire.

this is truth.
the sign
the symbol
of our struggle to remember
what we have forgotten.
what we were
without interpretation.
the blinding beauty
This is truth!

This is truth!

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