After my last poem, which was a rather tightly written ballad (Jesus Saves), someone challenged me to write something in which the control was a bit less tight, with a risk taken, to speak the full book of my heart. (I paraphrase)
So I loosened my control, took a risk, and spoke "the full book of my heart", so far as I know.
I'm not sure how I feel about it, but here it is:
And as I Sat
as i sat broken
bones obscenely poking through my torn skin
i cradled my shattered arm like a newborn babe
hoping for my heroes to speedily arrive
and praying that the surgeon's skill
would banish the jagged nightmare
back to the evil shadows whence it came
and as i sat
two men who saw me flying through the air
gathered round and
in hushed tones and forced
gaiety
gave comfort as they could
one boy fought down his own anxiety
at the spreading red upon my lap
but was too brave to lie
i calmed his as i could and
his courage was a balm to me
a lovely spanish girl with perfect, perky tits
- oh yes, I noticed them - I'm sorry child -
gave reassurance me with her
her big brown
doe eyes
i flirted shamelessly
but we both knew
it was all innocent
in pain and fear
i only sought the comfort that she freely, as a mother, gave
still I was strangely calm
as if drifting on a dead sea
each bump as I was carried
to the healer's cave
each searing jolt of pain
meaningless -
more was at stake
a surgeon's smile
- oh, how I loved that man! -
the clear mask of sleep gently lowered -
"could this be my final sight?"
awakening in a morphine fog
then months of dreary physio,
a woman who left,
a priest that never came,
the disappointments
flooding fast . . .
To my surprise, I grew!
My arm was shattered, yes,
but still, it may one day be whole
for I am working hard,
and I'm a stubborn, stubborn man,
though I have other breaks to heal,
the other jagged pieces of my life
that also rose and then broke over me like filthy waves
on urban beaches strewn with broken needles, used condoms, cans and glass . . .
and pick them up,
my shattered dreams,
I will,
I do,
and as I do:
I AM!
Yes, this is me!
For I've passed through the furnace of my fears,
and hotter still, the clouds of dull despair
- the phoenix laughs at me,
she who truly died,
not passed through faux mortality, as I,
a mere visitor, lingering on the dismal shores of the river of awakening.
Still, one thing I have learned:
We live our lives in many layers -
Some play roles from day to day,
While others, deeper still, through larger cycles toil,
And one there is whose long roots reach down to eternity.
And in this pilgrimage
In which I sorted through my mundane fears,
My roots grew deeper still,
Bravely reaching even to the stars.
So I loosened my control, took a risk, and spoke "the full book of my heart", so far as I know.
I'm not sure how I feel about it, but here it is:
And as I Sat
as i sat broken
bones obscenely poking through my torn skin
i cradled my shattered arm like a newborn babe
hoping for my heroes to speedily arrive
and praying that the surgeon's skill
would banish the jagged nightmare
back to the evil shadows whence it came
and as i sat
two men who saw me flying through the air
gathered round and
in hushed tones and forced
gaiety
gave comfort as they could
one boy fought down his own anxiety
at the spreading red upon my lap
but was too brave to lie
i calmed his as i could and
his courage was a balm to me
a lovely spanish girl with perfect, perky tits
- oh yes, I noticed them - I'm sorry child -
gave reassurance me with her
her big brown
doe eyes
i flirted shamelessly
but we both knew
it was all innocent
in pain and fear
i only sought the comfort that she freely, as a mother, gave
still I was strangely calm
as if drifting on a dead sea
each bump as I was carried
to the healer's cave
each searing jolt of pain
meaningless -
more was at stake
a surgeon's smile
- oh, how I loved that man! -
the clear mask of sleep gently lowered -
"could this be my final sight?"
awakening in a morphine fog
then months of dreary physio,
a woman who left,
a priest that never came,
the disappointments
flooding fast . . .
To my surprise, I grew!
My arm was shattered, yes,
but still, it may one day be whole
for I am working hard,
and I'm a stubborn, stubborn man,
though I have other breaks to heal,
the other jagged pieces of my life
that also rose and then broke over me like filthy waves
on urban beaches strewn with broken needles, used condoms, cans and glass . . .
and pick them up,
my shattered dreams,
I will,
I do,
and as I do:
I AM!
Yes, this is me!
For I've passed through the furnace of my fears,
and hotter still, the clouds of dull despair
- the phoenix laughs at me,
she who truly died,
not passed through faux mortality, as I,
a mere visitor, lingering on the dismal shores of the river of awakening.
Still, one thing I have learned:
We live our lives in many layers -
Some play roles from day to day,
While others, deeper still, through larger cycles toil,
And one there is whose long roots reach down to eternity.
And in this pilgrimage
In which I sorted through my mundane fears,
My roots grew deeper still,
Bravely reaching even to the stars.
