Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Monday, February 13, 2006

Burial Rites

Grounded at the sea,
No more steps to run,
Did we fail that final dream?
Is the truth about to come?


I fight the ache where the blood seeps
Because I am always first in line.
Will this victory spell defeat?
As they follow so loyal and blind?

Your breath, it pulls me close,
So bitter in my ear.
Will you tell me why
When all has finished here?

Hector’s pleading cry,
Achilles mournful tear.
Bubbles empty sighs,
Makes us disappear.

And we depart from space
We wait the coming show
Soon we’ll take our place
Where spirits only know.

I soothe my beating fears,
In Hector’s bleeding wound
I feel Achilles cry,
While we settle in our doom.

The spirits now are fed;
Keep your prayers away;
The living and the dead
Have nothing more to say.

4 comments:

Cocaine Jesus said...

i think that this all a metaphor for something else.
anyway, loved the flavour of it.

Dan Husain said...

Beautiful poem EOTR! But i guess you meant 'breath' and not 'breathe'?

Cheers

Dan

pomedome said...

Burial a rite and proper witness. The ground is ready, the sky, the flies and worms. All ready already and us pretending we're not...hmm
Beautiful and deep poem

Enemy of the Republic said...

Dan, I made the change. Thanks for pointing it out. How was the play?

CJ: You are so right.

Pom: Thanks and sorry for the slow response. I've been in a funk all month.