The Forgotten and Fluctuations of Awareness
"The Forgotten and Fluctuations of Awareness"
When the crime
was committed,
the writing
was already on the wall,
no one listened.
It climbed insidiously
out through the cracks
like a friendly tarantula.
that sad poet
I read today,
she writes
of dry mascara.
poet destroyer
what point to apply
ink to windows, at all?
surely best kept clear
unadulterated.
so you are best prepared,
you can see, clearly, when
the writing's on the walls.
the signs
of dark undertones
were already there.
slick smiles always won,
moved the doubt
of deviant criminality,
swiftly away. charm, always
cleared the air. always,
the truth
was disbelieved. always.
the sad histrionics, hormones
of an overprotective, insane mother.
Others
had their day
had their
statements heard;
apologies spoken,
before the twice cuffing.
but not the missing piece,
an apology, never delivered.
Some wars bleed
internally, they don’t need
mascara to wet a story; just
justice - sharp nibs, swords walking keys.
blackballs pierce
the aether.
bloody halls left
empty, barren
produce
the loudest
quiet murder.
a short list
of cursed incumbents
all succinctly
numbered.
When the real war landed
many years later,
and the lies lifted,
the abductors remembered
the grace extended.
the time given.
the gravitas of
the mother load
swept over them,
high armed,
laser sharp
in visceral vibration.
hidden deeds.
glowing reports.
freedom shopping
the undead, the smile unaware
perhaps anxious
of the reveal,
as they try to
nonchalantly sell, themselves,
talk the talk,
walk the floor.
not swept
under pristine carpets;
the listing charade
of the obvious ignored.
shot in broad daylight
where all
can clearly see,
what it means.
the truth of it all
kept silent.
The martyr, shot,
obliterated, the chord cut
mercilessly.
you think
that what gave birth
and what was born
could ever be parted?
Dirty politics
bought its own war,
a place of peace on fire,
heaven on earth, ends eventually.
not mine.
awareness in the child
snuffed in the obtuse
abduction, reverberates
like absent noise.
its echoes
now arrive
in the non-surrogate
silence of truth.
mother and child
alienated,
segregated?
impossible. This life
and the next,
never parted.
When the real war
landed,
the forgotten,
the missed,
never once
hesitated. granted,
there was a certain
madness,
always strength.
awareness full bodied,
precise, punctuating.
motherhood's loving,
protective.
when alienated,
it's also, lethal.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2022
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