This, The Light Was Harsh, is the first poem in the month-long series of daily poems, Violent Verses, posted for the month of October 2009. (I reversed the dates so the reading order is better, dates are thus... backwards.)
The light was strong, violent. In his anger,
leaping out, he’d made an imprint
and puffed her soul to bleed.
She knew he would soon stop-
end his rage toward anguish and
The gaping holes
in the walls would attest
to his frenzied decorations.
His dreadful, pitching heaviness
would suddenly meet
such stiff and frightened jaws, her redness
emerging, and her cries pleading to let go.
I can’t tell you anymore,
Not without putting a hole through a wall.
I can’t tell you anymore,
for I am a man whose rage might leak
like fearsome light through a cavern at dawn.
I could read everything,
all there is to know about man
and still not know where the hell we are,
still not know why or when
we fell away into such ferocious shadows…
Perhaps I’m looking at it wrong...
Maybe it is not man that has fallen away,
maybe it’s the light that has forsaken her,
the harsh and angry radiance climbed too high
to witness,
the warmth, too great a distance to travel alone...
© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
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