the air of the chimney – whips
mocking tales of fairy endings
creations of the devil
tempting us all
to one more day
of wishes, suffering, happiness
My heart, the elephant
of my fate, broken and painful
stumbling through this journey,
without a herd,
without a lover,
I walk through hot coals laid for me
by you, singing my skin, you stare,
until I burn, you turn and go.
But I am the strength
I need in your aftermath
to rise again.
Like a ghost at my bed three a.m.
haunts the spot my heart used to be.
In a room that echoes vacant night time
chats, I think of eternity in purgatory.
Locked in a rhymeless room with no view,
no paintings, no sheets, no floor, no air –
only a roof and four walls, screaming perpetually –
no one can hear
I suffer through a time without an end.
In the nothingness of faded for sale signs
urban decay fills cities with busy work
hovering over what resembles a barren landfill
where failure, frustration, catastrophe
a Godless creature invisible to the mortal eye
forever burdened by repeated false starts
and the same endings bored I cannot smoke
because humanness is midpoint between
nothingness and where
in the woman I am meant to be
when the tears of forbidden emotions
and extinguished my inner light
my mirror has no reflections
all I can see is the illusion of a life
all that was lived was a chaotic revenge
by anyone that ever loved me
I exist in the shadows of empathy,
where compassion floods my soul
feeling the pain of all who are near
because I have no peace
in the presence of a stranger’s sorrow.
I find myself in an outdoor cinema,
with individual’s inner battles on display,
I am preoccupied with the judgements
that compound their sorrowfulness.
Suddenly and purposefully I mourn,
I mourn not for myself
but for a world full of people
that cannot find each other in plain sight.
Walking, at the end of summer
through a quiet village,
like any other,
with talking windows,
cars slowly pass a homely church,
making the sign of a cross,
I stop outside
in blue skies
swarms of crows encircle me,
sending chills throughout my spine,
Blessed Mother Mary hovers ominously
over deafening echoes of aging souls
pleading forgiveness of misspent youths,
in the face of impending ends,
a glint of forgiveness,
eases aching consciences.
Seamus Heaney, one of Ireland’s National Treasures captured my heart from the minute I heard his name… As a person that has come from another country and made this beautiful island my home I can honestly say it is from the sincerity of people like Seamus Heaney that made me stay – may he rest in peace…
My favourite poem of Seamus Heaneys:
Lovers on Aran
The timeless waves, bright, sifting, broken glass,
Came dazzling around, into the rocks,
Came glinting, sifting from the Americas
To posess Aran. Or did Aran rush
to throw wide arms of rock around a tide
That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?
Did sea define the land or land the sea?
Each drew new meaning from the waves’ collision.
Sea broke on land to full identity.