What More Can Happen?

like grey portents,
deep furrows glisten on the brow
of a dark foreboding,
even the wind is uneasy today
wrapped tightly around nameless headstones,
what more can happen,
as if we didn’t stop counting the dead a long time ago,
as if we don’t perjure ourselves every time we sigh,
everyone has lost something or someone,
everyone blames something and someone,
what more can happen,
kings are crowned by ballots and bullets,
heads are bowed by words and swords,
we swallow the dread like unsaid prayers
and the hate seeps out of us like sweat, clogging the emptiness,
till even the gods can’t see us through the fog,
eagles that pecked at rainbows beg for rancid grain,
and yet the omens flood dry channels where rivers used to run
as if the old dead have risen to bury the new,
and you know it is not over yet,
you know what has begun will not rest,
how did we learn to bear so much,
why did we learn to fear so much,
remember how the hills trembled and the sea
turned its guilty face
when love departed,
remember how we picked sides when both were right
and both were wrong
and love departed,
the signs appear like perforations on a brittle horizon,
what more can happen.

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40 thoughts on “What More Can Happen?

  1. That’s how I feel at the moment:
    ‘deep furrows glisten on the brow
    of a dark foreboding’
    and these lines hit home:
    ‘we swallow the dread like unsaid prayers
    and the hate seeps out of us like sweat, clogging the emptiness,
    till even the gods can’t see us through the fog’,

    Like

  2. A mighty write, multi-layered, metaphoric & yet personal. Puts me in mind of politic, global warming, and love gone bad–love the line about the eagles /heads are bowed by word & sword/.

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  3. Very dark…. I need hopeful these days. That said, I find this quite powerful….especially like this line:
    “eagles that pecked at rainbows beg for rancid grain”

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  4. One can dream that the worse has happened, but this may be the delusion of a technical coloured dreamer, who has experienced a lot of sadness, in her life.

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  5. I like these lines: “remember how we picked sides when both were right
    and both were wrong
    and love departed,”

    Picking sides leads to separation, departing of love, as you seem to be suggesting here.

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  6. Ominous! I can hear the music in the background. The line “the signs appear like perforations on a brittle horizon” is inspired. I also like “we swallow the dread like unsaid prayers.”

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  7. “as if we didn’t stop counting the dead a long time ago,” ~> This line in particular just really stood out to me, I think, because of all the terror attacks that keep happening in the world around us nowadays. Your entire poem is so hauntingly beautiful.

    Like

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