Crossing the T's and Dotting the I's
The fun (and burden) of poetry is when you re-read a poem and realize it completely captured a moment or idea (or that it didn't quite hit the mark). Last month I wrote "Heavier than Steel, Lighter than a Feather" but it didn't quite feel right. After submitting it for a critique and reading some of the comments I decided to do some editing and make some improvements. Perhaps next month, I'll look back and think this is exactly right (or maybe I'll edit it again).
Artwork by MechanicalHyena and found on deviantArt. |
Heavier than Steel, Lighter than a Feather
They told me I was broken:
My arms unable to survive
And I heard them crank the saw--
Caught the glimmer of it's silvery blade,
Braced myself for the sound of pain,
Readied myself for the loss of flesh--
Dead weight can only hold you down...
So I laid there,
Drowning in my own tears.
Drowning in my own tears.
Anticipating the loss from which I could not heal.
Time stretches on
Agonizing--
And the sound of the saw fades--
Muffled in my stupor,
I hear them talking,
Hear them plotting...
Hear them plotting...
What to do with the broken human?
The poking and prodding begins,
No reprieve from my suffering
Not a moment of silence or an ounce of peace...
But for the sound of the drill
There above my shoulder drilling
And the hammering--
I feel them pounding.
I feel them pounding.
What more suffering can I endure?
I'm already broken...
So I pass the hours slowly
Tick, tock--
Until at last the mayhem stops...
Until at last the mayhem stops...
And there hangs an unusual weight
A tremor of pain from sore shoulders.
There lies something new
A replacement for broken flesh--
My eyes catch the glimmer of green
Soft, beautiful green, glittering with gold
Caressed by the gentle touch of blue,
I see feathers flying free,
Hanging in place of what use to be...
Beautiful metallic wings,
Crafted a top metal arms and metal joints--
They move with my thoughts,
They bend at my whim.
And I know, now, they are part of me...
Perhaps I'll fly away,
Look down on this memory
From skies soft and blue--
Just above the clouds
Chart my own way
Through turbulence, through rain...
There in the warmth of the sun,
In the presence of light
I fly high...
I spend my eternity
Basking in the presence of stars.
Perhaps I'll fly away,
Look down on this memory
From skies soft and blue--
Just above the clouds
Chart my own way
Through turbulence, through rain...
There in the warmth of the sun,
In the presence of light
I fly high...
I spend my eternity
Basking in the presence of stars.
Published on Monday, May 26, 2014
Circus of Words, Dreams, Faith and Belief, Flying, Poetry, SciFi/Fantasy, Writing Issues
1 comment
Circus of Words, Dreams, Faith and Belief, Flying, Poetry, SciFi/Fantasy, Writing Issues
1 comment
I like it I even learned a couple words :)