Byzantine Bindings

Monday, 2 May 2011

Halfway House

How difficult
to live
in the moment
being present
through the din
the persistent hum of creation.

never quiet
constant whisper, hidden
unearthed by being still in time

recycled truth
wrapped in blanket
muffled sounds emerge
smothered cries
mu mu ma mu

void eclipsing silence of…
taken for granted
wholly mother of God
mu mu ma mu

see me
tainted by the hand of God
unable to wrestle free
mu mu ma mu

Unable to resolve the situation, our intrepid hero gives in to the temptation to state a position.
Little more than the gurgling of a weaning child in arms, his utterance belies his frailness and yet determination to articulate, as only he can in his position, what only he knows.
inconsolable now as, misunderstood nothing happens as a result - there is no response of any kind and the day goes by and the night draws on and the night draws on.
He makes a battle cry:
By the sweat on my fevered brow
I curse this affliction of language longing for the day!

Take it with a pinch of salt
look to your own belly and its yearnings my friend
lest the loaf-lord make you a wretch like me
forced now to wander and live by my wit as poet and sage.