Poetic Journal Year 166 B.E.

166.99 "every utterance" <GZ>

"every utterance"

I barely survived my time. My childhood, my teens, my twenties, my life... yes, there were good times, but overall I lost my self in gloomy shadows. Too many generations of mistrust and secrets refused to allow my thoughts of joy to reach the surface or rid the pimple's ichor. My laughter was forever to be shushed and smiles were seldom seen and then self-conscious.

"Death is a Messenger of Joy" I read when I was 20. I embraced its cooling balm of healing and welcomed it's imminent arrival. It arrived late like most things in my life. I'd always thought that there would be deliverance at the end, but first one had to get through living indigestion. Later one could reminisce and ponder... what WAS that shit... what WAS that all about... and was it really really necessary?

Now, long past the light that knows no shadow, only sorrow spares the dimness of my empty sight, of shallow pools reflecting only half-remembered moments, mirrored as if... as if to fool me into thinking "this was worth it".

Was it? I think not, but then I wonder whether others felt the same. Their games of seeing faults, the could've-beens, the should've-beens adding up to bankrupt days. Did the living ever notice that this shame-and-blame could never matter? Most did not. They lived each day as if their end-time in a pool of stars did not exist. I whispered to them in their dreams, "your reflection in this star-time does exist and so do you and I."

And so I begged you look beyond your waking thoughts as kindness left a dimple, rippled cross the surface of your hours, obscured the pain found in life's depths, that sallow puddle, poisoned muck and tepid thirst. I asked you to behold each breath that all inhaled, exhaled without a thought. For when you joined me, you would try to breath and fail! For air's forever still without the lungs to move it. And no sound bellows from un-uttered screams.

"Utter then your dreams," I said. You wrote them down, your lifelong art. "But do not be deceived when no one reads their fading ink."

Except this waiting heart.

breathless
every utterance
remains

© Kåre Enga [163.99] 2009-06-20

In entry "Every utterance"  "I started the above today (since edited and expanded) in a blog comment at ShellySunshine written on my laptop, not in my notepad. ."