There are shadows of my life
that haunt me still
regardless of the here and now.
You would know nothing of them,
nor would you wish to
as they have no meaning for you.
But to me they bear indelibly
and for all time
the marks of life and death.
I hide in their portentous darkness
from time to time,
but mostly I cringing fear them.
And yet as they expand within me
I embrace their coldness
even as I walk with the warming sun.
For now.
i am no good at this
not the making of it
not the thinking of it
nor even the being of it
life is not a skill i possess
in any great abundance
finding it utterly daunting
discouraging how easily
i stray from the simplest
of tasks in their doing
i meander through words
sounds books banks
of such miniscule complicity
i drown in the details of
my wearisome masturbatory
pedantic self-flagellation
i stare at innumerable trees
that do not nearly constitute
the forest i am meant to see
i reach out to touch a gentle fawn
and instead crush my hand
against a cement block
life is not for the taking
it is not to be understood
in gregarious grins and guffaws
life resides in opaque shadows
that seem always to hover
just beyond my reach
oh weighty the years
that have borne my body
to once sullen earth
so weighty the moments
of desperate mourning
and insatiate madness
yet how sweetly now
time my heart engages
paging miraculous tales
and how lovingly now
my rising soul entangles
among vines of utmost joy
and all because of you
inspired, so deeply desired
wistfully wondrously you
singing songs of laughter
chanting hymns of love
pressing patterns peaceful
because of you, my love
the sun pirouettes above
the moon languorously lists
and i, emancipated at last
embrace the finest fullness
of a life wholly fulfilled
there is such decay
in this aging flesh
such pain clawing
through these limbs
gnawing at the fibers
of transient being
and yet we hold on
grasping at perpetuity
while gasping our last
precious promise
of certain intransigence
and desperate need
we seize at vitality
angrily breathing needles
piercing our veins
with chemical inducement
and medical murmurs
moistened with tears
with trembling limbs
we prostate ourselves
before imperceptible deities
touching coldest stones
with sweaty hands as
generations of ghosts
have done before
in this too i confess
is a world familiar
in these branches
bare and desiccated
in this shriveled wood
as in the brittle hearts
of the living and the dying
is an honest expression
in the days to come
and the years gone by
reside the unquestionable
integrity of divinity
the spirit of the world
in infinite expansion
must also experience
the weight of contraction
with one mighty swing
of his enchanted club
the great dagda brought low
all of nine hail men
and with the handle
he returned them all
once more to life
for in the fall is there
a rising
Dead Horse Point, Utah
perpetual storms
never truly passing
paining plaintively
with petty motions
promotional portions
moaning morbidity
groaning complicity
complacently lacing
a much maligned
and harrowed heart
swiftly torn to tatters
yet tying it all grimly
back together again
for one more go at
innocent indignation
one more frantic go
at this gorgeous
game of life
from deepest rooted earth
from blackened loamy soil
stretching skeletal interred
conversing somberly with
voracious worms churning
dirt and flesh and phantoms
have i serendipitous emerged
serenely culling cleansed
of wanton cares and pale
importuning wares worn
threadbare and sorrowful
mourning this sullen self
this ashen pointless pelt
of a man of limited means
dreaming of vivid scenes
praying ever brightly vital
for virtue’s brittle grace
longing still so eager for
Cliodhna’s beauteous face
pleading flesh and soul
abased for one last chance
to flee this barren bourn
and find redemption fair
Salt Lake City 27 Oct 2012
George Ellington 