Poetry

Per Ardua Ad Astra II

I should have escaped before becoming my own prison,
A trap of breaks and doubt, rocks littering the riverbed.
I could have sailed away, cast off before the land became
A desiccated desert of sunken hopes like paper boats
Torn apart and scattered, a book of memories like this,
Plotless and pitilessly stark under a heavily throbbing sun.
Nothing but recovery, therapy, exercise and exegesis now.
No conquest, no river of gold – just small battles in a war
Of attrition, enemy always at hand, mirror faded by rust.
Even love is no comet in the sky, no wings of Mercury.
I love you and it breaks my heart, turns bones to ash,
Heart like ice, hunger infinite and unfed, stars gone dark
On the other side of a long, heavy curtain of adversity.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s