Witness
Created | Updated Jun 24, 2002
The Poetry Archive
Witness - A special work
I have placed this particular poem in its very own entry, mainly due to its size, but also because I consider it to be one of my better pieces of work.
Witness
I
A Christening in a tiny church
little hands graze beaming sight
words pure in meaning, and water
twice wash the soul
brand new and clean
dried by a whispered hush, lost in warmth
and manufactured joy.
Real tears of Heaven crown such innocence
only to be robbed in later days
when Autumn's haze has come to pass
five or six or more, but now -
Now in Grace and happy shining eyes
where mortal God and omniscience combine
to bring assumed childhood something right.
What now doth craven beauty brings,
crept silently through weeded fields
living now remains existence here
and nothing more
Who could ask much else
not even curdled blood in human form
can take to face dependence
and deny nature's true perfection.
The spirit seems unyielding
but tries to form some covering film
Not much, not enough just yet
no need but to protect from surface wounds
not yet
only time may silence rumoured death.
II
Something in a father's smile
and quiet comprehensive understanding
such an odd undertaking
living in a backward life, content.
Then, a child, carrying her wayward sway
with increasing symetry in movement
there across the floor to waiting arms
Not what you may expect.
And so in some forgotten place
stay childish fears and monsters close
but lurking evil, swadled by alluring minds,
pales nothing to what stays behind the door.
Remember, or not
it has no bearing
Look now, watch,
see if you can tell where it strayed
crying out for reason.
But now the drawing eyes from across the way
call out for nothing.
Melt back and draw the curtains
because nothing here resists the chance
to tempt it all
and laugh.
Hands collide, bound by affection
the ride stops and you get off
without injury
you can't be thrown
Not yet.
III
When did it become -
maybe among these books
that make no sense, or at least
not as they should.
Shallow meaning contained in these pages
staring all the time
this is life.
Burned language stains worse than blood
and trees in winter bend not as if from ice
but more like they were trying to reach the ground
take away their beginning.
Which makes sense.
New and full of life in spring
can't possibly see a baneful moment, until -
chills from no where imaginable
crystalize hope
into beautiful death
but not the end.
Fated to become Nature's play thing
on the turn of her temperament
in each year of her infinite life
mortality invited.
Who says there is no control, no choice.
Who told the child in the picture
that she had to choose
and who was there when she did.
IV
A funeral in a tiny church
it's all been said.
You didn't really think it would be different
no -
A dove is shot in the field behind the store
"What? No dear, its just a pigeon
be more careful with that thing
you'll take an eye out."
A murderer is put to death in a county jail
"He had it coming
now turn that off."
Another person gone, from some war
an ocean away
"I thought I said turn that off."
The birds are flying south again
from the brazing glare that follows them
and stops, maybe at the border
like an invisible shield.
She never had the chance to form such a thing
fooled by the words of a lullabye
if only she could have gripped
much extended generosity.
No, she was too proud.
Remember how smart she was?
A funeral in a tiny church...
- © ametropia (Nesi)
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