here's to life

by hiraeth   Aug 10, 2017


maybe one day, time will slip backwards
and the clock's hands race to midnight
willingly. morning dew dissipates in
wisps of smoke, luna doesn’t have to
bleed herself dry for us anymore.
the symphony of night comes to a
crashing halt with the murmurs of
idle engines rushing home to melt
away the day’s stress. the evening
sun loses its semblance of strength
and gathers itself from the horizon,
stewing in anger, emanating hours
of invulnerability until white clouds
coax it once more into spilling its
true colours over the sky’s canvass
once more as the grass rustles with
mornin’ dew – somewhere in the
midst of this cycle,

maybe, my skin will decrystalize
from glass to flesh, words will shed
their lead casings and when I get
hurt I won’t shatter into a million
pieces but bruise like I once used to,
and scratches will turn into scars
that I can’t buff out, but it’s alright,
it's little tangible reminders of
real life and the vulnerability it invites.

maybe, my hands will unclasp from
one another, and the thoughts of
whether how much longer i’d have
to cleanse myself from my sins,
and hers will sift into the first
monsoons of august, the spent
charcoal reignites into embers
albeit struggling to live, an
extended metaphor for the
story of you and I.

maybe, the songbird nuzzled in y/our
throat will find its second westerly
wind and opt to taste the freedom
in flight all the meanwhile singing
its famed songs, leaving our lungs
impoverished of poetry, so we
seek it in all the right places this time;
you :
become a wayfarer, traveler of time
and lands foreign to you, because home
stopped being one, far too long ago for you,
me:
seeking it in you.

6


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Em

    JUDGING COMMENT:
    Mark has this fantastic way of writing poetry and it never ceases to amaze me how wonderful it is to see a new piece from him, this is no different everything seemed to flow like a bird flying or an artist painting and it was just beautiful because all the thoughts he had throughout the piece brought wonderful imagery to my mind and the end seemed to make me think that though he'd spent time thinking of trying to his thoughts went back to the person he'd tried not to think about 'you'

  • 2 months ago

    by Britt

    Judging comment: I wish you could be in my head as I read this, almost as much as I could be in your head while you wrote this. What a poem jam packed full of rawness, vulnerability, and these images that have me feeling like I'm shoved in to the atmosphere. The second stanza is where it was for me personally, the piece I drew the most familiarity to, where I felt home at and understood because I've felt these very things. How beautiful to feel understood through someone else's work this way. Everything about the last stanza drew me in. I love the songbird and nuzzled and the clever use of y/our - it all just worked so well. Love this.

  • 3 months ago

    by BlueJay

    Correction, congrats on two wins this week, very well deserved.

  • 4 months ago

    by mossgirl19

    I love how this flowed like water...it's like a message to self and a significant other...there's a freedom that exudes from it, a letting-go and a tinge sadness because of that. The use of maybe in starting the stanzas gave it a serene feel, it is beautifully, wonderfully written. The ending is just perfect! Really great job, Mark!

  • 4 months ago

    by Sai

    The images spill from one to the next like a steady stream. There's a lot but you made it so that it's not overwhelming to the reader. In the third stanza, there's a sudden introduction to a female persona (...to cleanse myself from my sins, / and "hers") which leaves the reader wondering who she is and why the speaker needs to cleanse not just his own sins but hers as well.

    "...the spent
    charcoal reignites into embers
    albeit struggling to live, an
    extended metaphor for the
    story of you and I."

    I like this part. The image it paints in my mind and also how well worded it is.

    The final stanza definitely is the highlight of the poem. Assuming that she (the female persona from before) is the same person as the "you" in the succeeding lines, as I pointed out earlier, it flowed smoothly. Regardless of the technical aspects of English poetry that this is a deadly sin (as my high school teachers used to say haha), I really liked that. It's enticing for me when poetry steps out of the boundaries set by selfproclaimed poets. Only nitpick would be the errors in the usage of a couple of "it's" here and there, where the possessive form should take their place instead. This piece emanates hope / a second try / a redo button, something that I am in need of lately. So yeah, here's to life. Definitely.

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