I've seen the furrowed brow of nothing,
The aching joints of something else,
The healing bones of where I was,
The flagship of misery, rocking back and forth.
And I've seen the droves of wandering youngsters,
not sure.
The despairing searching tree branches winding
through the air I breathe at night.
And the tepid walk on frosted grass,
the reluctant steps and frozen knuckles,
The closed jaw tight with disbelief,
the heavy eyelids, blinking, "are you kidding me?"
Bones healing healing.
This is excellent (art) in its accuracy. I can see it. I feel like I'm in that town.
ReplyDeleteThe size of the words mimic one another, making it feel weighted (you know I'm so visual). Nice.
The branches of those trees do look like lost souls. Pathetic. And my soul resonated with them, too. We sulked together.
I'd maybe like to hear more of the narrator's thoughts/perception while he was in the scene. What did he think? Did he buy into it? Did he find it alien and bizarre?
Love the quote at the end. Adds a build. Love the rhythm at the very end. Also, gives shape to the work.
The project and era, Identity Search, in that disposable (4-5 yr) interval of existence is overrated. Absurd. It makes more sense for someone to say, "the two of you go to Al's two story night club (you know the one with the shaking floor) and try to find one another and communicate. A ridiculous idea.
The search (described in "A Brief Reflection") can be paralyzing. People wander, becoming more encrypted in their own life and landscape. They are not realizing; we see them become more confused.
...
Sometimes one side of the fence really does have brown grass, while the other has green. :) I'm grateful for perspective. I'm grateful for when you have healing times.
(words) :)