©2010 Peter Manda
i am unloved
It is the violence of contempt
That condescends on me …
it freezes my senses in its harshness:
like the frozen waters of Lake Michigan
eating at the hardest shell of those streams
that descend through depths darker
than their soul that entangles me
It is the insecurity of the moment
The fear of scrutiny, the irony of •
Arrogance that ignorance cries
as it dangles its hope on dissimulation.
No moments live here
than those in our hands that have been
held.
and yet that violence grasps ; it
clings, it surrounds, it compels, it consumes
it devours, it challenges, it engages
and then … it defeats.
It. is the defeat of that moment,
when an attempt has been made
at conciliation and togetherness and
- that moment – shatters.
- Shatters against the glass of wind-sweeping
frozen waves; ice lieing on ice;
snow heaped on snow and a
frozen loneliness of outside ; a waiting
for a snowman, for a clause, for
a pumpkin, for an image of how it should be and
have been.
It is the wondering – the awe – the
perspicuous imagination – the depth
of the realization that sitting here at two
in the morning in the freezing rain …
i am unloved.
No comments:
Post a Comment