Post by kapziel on Aug 22, 2008 1:15:23 GMT -5
“Memento”
Intentional fetters,
chaining me to a ghost
of you-
I’ve learned to appreciate
the restlessness of a river,
the breeze breeding ripples
on a lake’s texture,
leaves drifting against cement
sounding like brittle footsteps,
a shudder of inspiration
from a strand of your hair
remaining on the collar
of a shirt I haven’t washed,
fishing jumping out of water,
a dream of flight-
a way of feeling your presence
in everything that’s beautiful.
The horizon itself seems unreachable,
and in time, even more so,
and the greyest days
can’t compare
to my outstretched hand
grasping for what’s left of you,
and hoping you’ll leave
behind something tangible
I’m trying to catch
jigsaw pieces as they fall
apart, and finding them again
in the almost infinite piles
of broken shards,
glass and fragments
of former lives and loves
and there’s nothing,
nothing like the desperation
of holding a bird in your hand,
and she wants her freedom,
and you want her happiness,
and it’s only one or the other.
NOTE: A very recent poem, minor revisions (concerning the second stanza) and a few changes in line breaks from the original. Any feedback or criticism is appreciated.
Intentional fetters,
chaining me to a ghost
of you-
I’ve learned to appreciate
the restlessness of a river,
the breeze breeding ripples
on a lake’s texture,
leaves drifting against cement
sounding like brittle footsteps,
a shudder of inspiration
from a strand of your hair
remaining on the collar
of a shirt I haven’t washed,
fishing jumping out of water,
a dream of flight-
a way of feeling your presence
in everything that’s beautiful.
The horizon itself seems unreachable,
and in time, even more so,
and the greyest days
can’t compare
to my outstretched hand
grasping for what’s left of you,
and hoping you’ll leave
behind something tangible
I’m trying to catch
jigsaw pieces as they fall
apart, and finding them again
in the almost infinite piles
of broken shards,
glass and fragments
of former lives and loves
and there’s nothing,
nothing like the desperation
of holding a bird in your hand,
and she wants her freedom,
and you want her happiness,
and it’s only one or the other.
NOTE: A very recent poem, minor revisions (concerning the second stanza) and a few changes in line breaks from the original. Any feedback or criticism is appreciated.
