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Grady Klein Poem
Be it that I am doomed to walk the Earth
In fear of time - measured in mere fractions;
Starlight grants me comfort with twinkling mirth,
Lost in wakes of dread deeper than oceans.
I'd ask what it means to live over time,
of paupers; preachers; aristocrats, too -
why lives are measured in short centuries.
For stars, it is nothing if not untrue.
A middle child with no hope to call mine;
with stately manners, I protest, "I'm fine,
doomed to be but shadows and memories."
Stardust divines our eager fingerprints
imbued on the walls of our history:
generations defined by reticence
and willful blindness to its mystery.
I'd ask what it means to swallow my fears,
of gods and kings and legends in their prime,
to carve in my heart courage that's blinding -
Like stars whose light shines long after their time.
O' Father I'll pray the rest of my years
through the funeral rites and birthday cheers,
"Grant me the stars when life stops rewinding."
With tired devotion left in my soul
I'll shatter the world to see what I'm worth -
memories that used to make me feel whole,
buried like innocence lost in childbirth.
I'll say what it means to temper my pride
to mothers and fathers, both who are lost,
Silently waiting till we come of age.
It's the ones you bring up that bear the cost.
Tell your kids before their eyes open wide;
Before their lungs, filled with air, rise like the tide;
"Stand and face your mortality with rage!"
Copyright © Grady Klein | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Grady Klein Poem
So light and fair are these strands of gold;
So precious and rare they settle in my soul.
For when they flew, to my knees I often fell,
But now forever still are they damned in eternal hell.
Now my heart cries for what my eyes cannot do,
For I can't look upon hers and that precious sea of blue.
Light tends to fade on the seams of her face,
Where a smile once curled with those lips sweetly placed.
Roses are cast to this placement of stone,
Where inscribed is an epitaph screaming, 'cold and alone'.
Slowly, sad tears roll down this weary face,
I've missed out on it all, on love's sweet embrace.
This hate for myself now turns to my fear,
She cannot be dead, she must be right here.
Her hair still hangs about her flowing in the wind,
Telling me softly she will always be my friend.
Once more to my knees I drop in despair.
Tears fall from my eyes knowing she doesn't care.
Or she would be here right now, Saying that she loved me,
Not hiding in this grave, knowing that she really hates me.
Copyright © Grady Klein | Year Posted 2011
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