The Mortal Bright
and post notes and photos about your poem like Gregory R Barden.
Grasping the mantle of Heaven's raw wound,
Fear dripped as tears to the cavernous dark ...
Swallowed my conscience and rational mind,
Strength and resolve, but the food for its ire.
Breeding through torment when I, a wee lad,
Knew in its object, the beast 'neath my bed ...
Cold breath of reason pervading that gloom,
Years as a sponge, sopping horror and awe.
Futile, that struggle to peer through its veil,
Then in mid-age, thru no fault but my own ...
Death bared its visage, my flesh in its teeth,
Sputtered my face, lifeblood clotted as truth.
Yet, as I washed the red stain from my skin,
Tender, its wings closed around me in care ...
Filled me with quietude, whisp'ring my fates,
I would, not once, dread the darkness again.
Not with that ocean of stars swimming high,
Only revealed in the night's deepest black ...
Just as the bright of the heavens is known,
Solely 'midst death's dark eternal embrace.
Written and submitted on August 19, 2019
For the "Something I Am Not" Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish, Sponsor.
(For many years I was afraid of the dark, even as an adult, until I learned through trauma that the only REAL monsters wear faces like our own ... I now find much comfort and beauty in it, and one only has to look at the stars to understand why).
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2019