Sunday, February 10, 2008

Father, have you ever killed someone and
felt them suffocate, their life flowing out?
Maybe you may have seen the death, the dead,
as you pry hopes and unfulfilments out from
their rigomotised grasp,
or maybe you were the one that
prayed the eulogy over the lowered body
addressing the tears of a congregation
with your own reverent stoicism,
or perhaps still, you might have used your deadly
name and made the call, to give the order,
letting us know it was time to pull out the
tubes and let another go -
but could you yourself ever, actually,
after all of that,
be the one to pull the plug?

Poetry 2/10

You closed off your microcosm -
who said that you or I or we
were not a sum of parts but a whole? -
and your part, your minor part to mine,
is closed and will remain until you choose
to open that wall to me or to yourself.

We could claim irreconciliable
or we could admit that walls prove
the worst to talk through - each of us
having built around our own microcosm;
and we are not irreconciliable, but rather
indifferent, and if I chose a different
path, it would be because you closed a door
and I chose not to find a window -
we'd prove to be separate then, in macrocosm -
it's said that you and I and we
are not a whole but only a sum of
separate parts.