I often wonder about the loss of hope while struggling to find any remnant of the promised, any sliver of light escaping from a shattered beacon.
As time stumbles by along a cold and desolate swampy existence my guide to aspire deliberately and purposefully commits to a self-induced suffocation of will.
Now where do I turn? A friend turns and a partner gives way; an occupation becomes a struggle to survive and a peaceful room comes to torture my thoughts.
What once was innocent and removed from this world’s devilish state stages daily coups to torment and giggle along the others humiliating betrayals.
It ends in a foreign place and a foreign state. I’ll leave nothing, not a journal nor a legacy. One more stumble of a crippled limb. One more strike by a smiling man.
3 comments:
exactly in this moment I come back to your blog after a while ... stunning ...
I put my arms around you ...
Heartfelt words...
i read through it like i promised, again and again, and it's quite sophisticated. it's structure is not simple, yet it has an undulating rhythm, one of large waves, that builds up and crashes down. the sounds of the words are sung more subtly than in your previous poetry, where you had played more straightforwardly with alliteration and the like. nison munayyas wa fi-l-7eesati mu7ayyas.
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