Saturday, August 19, 2006

Poem: Beyond Gibeon

It is all done now
but for the mopping up
and we all know now our
fates, which we hate, hate...
disdainfully swept aside
like so many crumbs from
my last dinner plate...

It is the last new thing
and it is wrong. Like stoney
hail, like skies unbound.

The details remain uncertain
and the unsure shape of
the sun, that bright spot in
a gray heaven, sears
its way towards us,
so slow; I'll shiver before
we all burn.

We... I... know this much,
if nothing else.

It was cold last night
but the moon was bright
and yesterday the sun
was brighter even still,
and colder even still,
hanging there too long...

Unnatural like,
it was not right...

In one place, in one damnable
place, as my brothers died,
carved down one by one
for nothing, the day
long lost to nothing, for
nothing but blood and
sacrifice

For their god, for ours
who was killed yesterday,
though they know it not yet.
Eaten and eliminated. Devoured.
Just like us.

Just like us.
Just like me.
The last new thing.
It is begun.

They might call it providence,
but not I. Some sort
of banquet honor but
not... ever... fate.

Not I.

Not today when, soon, I
only know that I will
tear at that heart I so hate,
if not before, during, if not
after I die; screaming,
crying, howling-

Not I, not I.

Not I.

One last bitter toast before
this new, bitter work.
Better you than me.
I'll sink in my teeth.

Yes, I'll even eat,
for such unnatural deeds,
once begun, will never be done
and this last new thing
will never be complete.

Unlike I, I'll say,
before, during, and after
this remainder of my life.

After the white morning air fades away;
under the final ablution of a blue heaven;
suffering the last kiss from a treacherous sun;
beyond the ultimate silence of the still, still sand;
in my final moment- with the last breath of
the day's final breeze curling around my feet;

Before my final tree,
I'll whisper these final words...

I, alone, will know peace;
I, alone, to kill no more,
wrenched finally from my home,
cleaved from my right,
too reduced to fight,
boiled down to nothing, a
vengeful wraithwright of
my once sonorous self...

Only then will I die,
only then and only I.

Only I.

8-18-2006

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