4 years on
I walk with a limp
and my fingers
are knotty
as clouds.
4 years on
and my children
have left me
I walk blind
through the darkness
in a spasm
of the wee, small hours.
4 years on
and the first
chill of winter
fills me with panic
and visions
of hyena-faced
cowboys.
4 years on
I still stammer
and tremble
I dance numb-footed
and it pains me
to mention
its name.
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midwestern transplant sunny dawn summers discovers the food, music and people of new orleans
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Pingback: Straightforward Poems for Straightforward People « tarnation and eudemonia
Keep on dancing, Seb. This is stark and as blunt and truthful as you can be about something whose name must not be spoken.
How dark does it get when there is no dawn?
Four years on can still sometimes feel like only minutes… Funny how time and expand and contract at its own will like that. Like how you’ve expressed that darkness here.
Whoa. Shit just got heavy! Seriously, this is why you ruled MySpace when you ruled MySpace. That ability to strip it all away and tell the bitter truth.
This dark shadow had been across your work for years now, occasionally reappearing but never wholly departing. maybe one day I will work out the clues!
Hey Shakey!
I guess poems dress up our nitemares as much as they do our dreams. They also remind us just why and exactly how the truth can hurt.
Your black dog back? Maybe saying it’s name would help you get over it? The details here are razor sharp and bloody, nonetheless.
Stark, unflinching and brilliant. You bear your pain so well here. And it is nice without the peanut gallery of gawpers and Leeza clones on MySpace to clutter things up
Your voice is still distinct and forceful – no matter where you try to hide it.
Emotionally confronting in every way. What dark terror could it be?
That’s such a well put together poem! And I’m very selective about poetry.
“4 years on”, Imagine reciting your poem; this line become elastic with multiple dimensions, and maybe this is part of how life experience affects us…to echo another, the master touch!
There’ll come a time when you have to face it, Seb. 4 years, 5 years – how many years does it take? Your voice here seems very calm in the face of fear.
Makes me think of my dad who has RA. Very poignant write.
That’s very perceptive, yes.
Bummer.
You’re such a mysterious fellow, Seb.
You’ll have to confront it by saying its name sometime, Seb. People will understand.
There’s some real power and ; lingering doubt tot his, Seb. You’ll be ok, though, because you are Seb!
Dark shadows in here, brother Seb.
You need to be honest, Seb. You can’t act like you are ashamed of it.
A struggle to read, Seb. So human and painful.
The sense of time and frustration in this really comes through, as does the knowledge it is all going to end soon. A cancer? AIDS?
I really like your writing, Seb. Glad you came across my site, and I….yours.
What a great word, had to look it up, Aristotle no less. “Happiness as a result of an active life governed by reason.”
Blunt, brilliant,bleak, beautiful.