Self-Inflicted Momentum
For "The Road Drops Here" Challenge.
/Tipped forward by my own volition,
by my own trajectory,
towards the wall,
that brick wall,
as my world collapses
and I can't blame anyone
~
thought I had the reason
~
I was once stable
feet on the ground,
holding my own
against the tide,
but as the tide came in
harder than before
and the weight of the water,
the water of loss—grief and sadness
pushed against my sodden t-shirt and shorts,
I felt the push over,
and couldn't resist,
instead I gave in,
weak and wretched—as I am,
weak and woeful—as I am.
Selfish and weak—
selflessness dissipated—to nothingness,
so to speak.
I reached for honour
and cut my hand—
on disreputation.
~
thought I suck my blood again
~
anyone-Stolen moments from cursed validation,
by my own depravity,
the drop,
the sheer drop,
as the wall caves in
and I can't—no can't—blame anyone
~
I fought to cleanse—I fought to cleanse
~
Before the drop—before the edge,
we...—that is to say—I,
was only aware of one thing.
Standing.
Proud—and—unwavered.
Death won't impact.
Death of a man I've not seen for 20+ years won't impact me.
Won't leave me scarred—and—broken
and exposed to the sword held aloft my head.
The sword of Damocles o—
r the Devil's tap-tap-rap-rap on my shoulder or my window.
Beckoning me
to indulge—gorge
my selfishness.
~
fought to suck my power—sap my will
~
anyone-I've been here before—though it's not that funny
deja-vu,
it's very real,
not Jamais vu,
just real—and—I'm afraid,
afraid I've lost—myself again.
~
I fought to cleanse—to cleanse it all,
~
Once I'm there—I'm gone and lost,
a part of me given to my animal,
my bestial drives—and—desires
for just anything—but—reality,
anything but the cold—and—the dark,
the tangibility of a dead body
lying forever comatose in a state of decay
beneath the ground in a cemetery in Glasgow.
No closure,
no easy tying
of loose ends—knots.
No nothing helpful.
~
I fought to suck my life again
~
again-Sought out as I did—escapism,
deliberately forgoing
my better judgment,
my conscience seared—and—torn,
forsaken on the side of the sofa
~
I fought the reason—thought
~
There is no sorry great enough,
there is no magical words powerful enough.
I can but hope that time and hard work,
and effort can forge my path ahead
as the world rebalances
and I reach—grab
with need—want
and passion
for redemption.
~
I knew the cleansing to own me for your own life—but—not for the best
I thought I fought the reason—the reason to cleanse
~
*
Thanks for reading!
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
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Comments (10)
This poem hit me so strongly and stirred up a lot of emotions that I need to sit with now and identify cos I don't even know what the hell they are just yet. I read somewhere that's the reason of poetry, to make the reader feel emotions. This one reached that goal perfectly. Great poem - as always!
Ahh man what a great poem. I could feel the gravity of sitting on the proverbial and maybe actual knife’s edge
Yes. It's a good poem. As a wise woman once said, many years ago, in front of some holy guys: "He's an idiot, but he's my idiot, and I love him." Good job!
So still writing those light-hearted pieces I see Paul! I kid, of course you write a large variety. I like how personal this is, I also like the onomatopoeia a lot! Loved that line! Yet I’m hoping you are feeling some compassion for a yourself too. Something I struggle with at times. I often repeat ‘kindness, mildness & compassion with myself and others’ as a mantra so I don’t rip anyone’s heads off. 😅 Don’t know if this is exactly what your are experiencing now, but I’m sorry I haven’t been around much as I’ve missed our interactions.
I was wondering where's your Author's Notes because you always have one. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️ Also, it's the dejavu poem!
This poem brims with grief and pain my friend. I hope that the weeks and months that follow give you some overdue solace. None of the lash marks across my bony spine can match the depth and the anguish of ones I myself have struck. Sometimes we vanquish only after the fall.
It seems that this piece is about your acceptance of who you are in many ways in my opinion.
I think this is a sound approach to the challenge, and while I read that you would rather not discuss the ins and outs, just know that I sincerely hope writing this poem provides you with some peace. Best of luck to you in the challenge, Paul. My attention was especially caught here: Once I'm there—I'm gone and lost, a part of me given to my animal, my bestial drives—and—desires, for just anything—but—reality, anything but the cold—and—the dark."
This is so beautiful, Paul. I'm so sorry about what inspired it, but I hope that writing about it has helped to serve as some catharsis. I love the way in which you write this--it creates the feeling of tilting that you're aiming for and that the prompt called for. Very well done.
Author's Notes: I am sorry I've published quite a few big poems for the remaining poetry challenges of late. This is a very autobiographical piece, hidden beneath poetry and wordiness. I don't think it's not obvious, but I am not really comfortable talking about the ins and outs of what it's about lol. Anyway, Thank you for reading for anyone that reads.