My heart is heavy: if heaviness were
a bundle I would set it down and leave
it on the roadside bloody there to throb
and die alone. Then newly spirited I
by the substitute beat of wings would learn to fly
and rise to heaven all heaviness defied,
by invisible will of winds sustained
and carried, no more burdens to abide.
But let my heart beat on inseparable, strong
against the grievous push of reality,
steady as the ground on which I stand,
constantly attending, the sergeant’s song
at the center of my march to victory
and the core of my pain.
My soul is sad: and if it were a rope
around my neck I would struggle to untie
the knots of my existence, to escape
the tangles of my personhood, to be
unfettered from my sorrows, free at last:
viva la dolce vita joie de vivre
translated to the gates of God
and welcomed in, all weariness relieved.
But let my soul run certainty within
the intricate schematic of my veins,
cause of all effect, the unseen force
of every muscle’s movement, every wind
and spark and charge, the rattle in my chains
and the source of my sadness.
My mind is numb: if heaven is a dream
unproven, laughable, a fool’s goal I
must dream it and believe it anyway:
upon these wings imagined life becomes
more bearable, the suffering recedes;
but prove there is no heaven, clip my dreams
and pain abounds and weighs me down;
my heart becomes a heavy ticking bomb;
my soul starts strangling me.
But let it be:
let my heart beat on, my soul remain within
to stubbornly endure; let time instruct
the vital weave of heaviness and heaven
and let me learn how pain is not a parcel
to reject or a cord to be cut.
No comments:
Post a Comment