True Poets' Punishment (Part 1)
Once in a wonder land I trekked –
Through the chaos and the wreck.
The earth was clothed in a misty layer –
Sown by the heavens’ unanswered prayers.
Cold hard steel, some sort of construction site –
The somber setting ignited my being with fright.
In this ebony that was once so white –
I slept to a hymn (now a dirge,) every night.
I shuddered; in attempt to shake off the opaque oppression –
Born from the theft of all of my precious possessions.
That left me Mute, Blind, Deaf, (predominated by regression,) –
Smashed up and shattered into debris of dank Depression.
Perhaps the sun will shine and goad my valves to thaw –
Perhaps I shall speak my mind, and unclench my jaw.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to grow razor claws –
To rip out and shred up my every flaw.
But it is I who drew this fiasco, who made this mess –
Who sold her soul, hurt and loved, but never confessed,
Who gave without return, her all, and nothing less –
A fool and compassion’s slave I am, one would guess.
Fanning wheat in a field of revulsion, (of my own making) –
Bestowed the unworthy, gave and gave more, without taking.
I grudged and judged, oblivious that I was simply mistaking –
Growing strong, (for a coward whose heart is breaking.)
In the wonder land once so placid, I descried something eerie –
Cacophonous odd footsteps, fatigue and weary.
“It ought to be the winds rustle,” my cerebration’s theory –
No living soul dare walk outside, (in a wonder land so dreary.)
But the preternatural noise hissed, and hissed more –
Its echoing murmurs and whispers I could not ignore.
Aghast, I spotted a movement in the sky, (a bird that soared) –
Curiosity held my hand, this bird's destination I shall explore.
I jumped, sprung, ran and raced so free –
Until I felt my pulse beating in my feeble knees.
There ought to be a cause for this bird to flee –
To a wonder land so dreary, this very night, above me.
After an endless chase, it perched on the cold ground –
I caged my breath, my helpless heart began to pound.
It’s a raven, my bloodshot and teary eyes had found –
For its glance pierced my soul (and its stare was profound.)
My heels clicked on the floor that was rock-hard –
Looking around, I found myself in a grave yard.
I carefully walked into the cemetery, (left without a guard,) –
Into the stack of buried souls, beaten and scarred.
Copyright © Maya Kaabour | Year Posted 2010
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