In The Shadow of the Contained

In the Shadow of the Contained

Cynical, I’d thought you at first; and judgmental.
But when you laugh, your face relaxes –
A smile teased out of a little boy in an unknown Italian painting.
Your cheekbones, are they high or low? Moustache? Glasses?
I’ve never noticed, nor the rest of you, having been mired
In thoughts and words, a slate erased.
But laughter remembers you, and wisdom depends.
When you speak, I touch not you
But Freud’s paintings that illuminate
Sylvia Plath’s sojourns along telephone poles,
And Van Gogh’s leg doubled in an agony of thrusting efforts,
The suffering of rainbows curved around fatherless eyes,
And graveyards of regrets in the man condemned.
And though essentially different, you remain of the same essence as I,
Giving words to my unthought, voice to my unsaid,
A reflection of the punitive fires of my soul
The fires you stole from the gods to weave
The cocoon that my puerile longings are contained in.
Your burdens bear heavy in a heart that mends my day
But I’ve lacked the courage to ask: “Are you tired?
And will the gods forgive you?”

*Just a middle-of-the-night dream of angels…….and demons. Of the sacred….and the profane. . .an unrealized vision of paradise.

** The last line used to be “And do the gods forgive you?”…but I do have the creative license


3 responses to “In The Shadow of the Contained”

  1. Great writing! I want you to follow up to this topic?!

  2. M
    Beutifullly said !
    I have used “unsaid “word in my poetry many times,and I feel,I am quite vocal—-
    May be we have still too many thoughts to share with the world
    similar vocation and hobbies(Poetry and music) and passion to help people and get helped in return.
    Rekha

    it seems

    1. Hi Rekha,

      Thank you. Sometimes life throws a koan your way, and the only way it can be expressed is symbolically thru poetry. Concrete words reduce its meaning, making it immateral, almost vulgar.

      M.

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