Wednesday, November 7, 2018

TOWARDS MIDNIGHT

TOWARDS MIDNIGHT

................................................
She looks at me
And I look at her.
She is beaten and disheveled.
And I can't properly breathe.
Our feet are both grey and cracked
From war.
Her battered dress is a short, dull red and yellow,
Though it must have once been bright and as long as the Nile flows.
I can't see what I am wearing but my shirt and trouser feel torn.
We are both sitting with our backs against the wall.

We stare at each other in silence.
We are in that place,
In a place beyond violence;
A tired, dull and emotionless silence.
The fire that is in between us is steady
But it is slowly running out.
So we sit there,
Looking dryly at each other.
The hut that covers us has walls that are painted with soot.
I cannot move,
And from the looks of it,
Neither can she.
What are we going to do?
Are we just going to sit here and whither?

At the corner of my eye,
I feel a stinging sensation.
The cause of this sensation
Is a very bright light outside the hut.
It is probably from the moon.
It towers over all things
And conquers all darkness
By dispersing it with light.
..........................................................
What do we do?

Is this what fate has led us to?
Is this what destiny prepared for the year 2022?
....Her eyes are still beautiful,
They are colored a dark brown spectacle.
In this still night,
They especially seem to have a poignant glow,
Beauty and sorrow mixed in radiant flow.
They forge together to form a rainbow.
Those eyes;
They have no more tears,
No more fears,
No more nightmares.
All they have is a blank expression.
........................................................
Where do we go from here?...........

3 comments:

  1. Wow, that's really awesome Bruno. As countless as the stars in the sky, numerous as the sand on the beach should your creativity sprout to write more poetry.

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