Shadows
and silhouettes,
outlines of things
best left
hidden
in the empty
places of the mind.
Memories of scars,
keloid – raised and hard,
mark the path
chosen
by the clawed feet
of unfriendly
vultures,
who,
I might add,
should be more grateful,
since they feasted
upon my eyes.
Promethean-sighs,
concerning the weight
of the future,
cool my tongue,
without soothing
the burning
in my lungs
caused by
a forgotten gift –
the burning heart
that has no power
to choose
who
is burned
by the blind man
chained to his rock.
©️ 2020.
I do believe I could read your poetry for an hour or two straight. One thing I love is the depth to each and every line. The fullness of it. The emotional and intellectual depth.
High praise. Thank you.
Honest words.
Some flames are not able to be put out for a reason, some gifts thankfully unreturnable. Some rocks, though attached, can still be moved, albeit in laborious and slow motion. Wonderful write.
Agreed. Thank you.
Well, “agreed” to the first part. Thank you for praising the poem.
Fair enough. If the rock cannot be moved, then the flame is especially essential for attracting the moth whose true form is the salamander. 🙂
Great, now I’ve got lizards.
Ha! No, you have the metaphor of the one who stays, resistant to fire! Come on, work with me here. 🙂
Lol. Sorry. I have jokes today.
It made me laugh. 🙂
Your lizard comment, not the poem! 😜
Well, the bit about lecturing the vultures was kind of funny.
Wait! Did you initially agree to it all (except wonderful write)?!
Yep.
Yeeessss!! I went in for Round Two for no reason. 😂 Extra credit!
All good comments on the impermanence of seemingly permanent things. Good reminders that literally all things change, even old wounds from decades past.
❤️