aging shadows

Why can’t I hear the Truth?

Instead, aging shadows whisper
a cacophonous symphony
most angrily composed,
scattering a thousand bitter moans
like shards of shredded metal
crashing bit by bit by bit
to the ground around me,
cutting through my flesh
leeching the blood from my veins.

Why can’t I know the Truth anymore?

I have struggled to achieve
even the slightest degree of wisdom
only to fall flat on this loathsome face
erasing youth, scored away
by the fire of age and angst.
I want to hear it again, need
to exceed these too temporal
boundaries and reach that beauty
that only the blessed may know.

Please, God, let me hear again.

[Inspired by David ben Alexander’s ]


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.

shadows in the ice

what envious being is this
floating beneath the ice
whose fine obsidian voice
beckons from the deep

whose rigid fingers these
scratching blackened figures
beneath the frozen surface
shadows clinging to the light

no blade could ever pierce
this hopelessly frigid waste
I know—for I have tried
and felt my flesh tearing

no heart could long endure
the harrowing solitude
of her perfectly intentioned
realm of solemn necessity

i have clawing clung
to the skeletal branches
of these barren trees
vines like wraiths descending

i have whispered her name
like a too pious monk
proffering my liquid soul
to assuage her endless thirst

Salt Lake City 09 Jan 2013