Leaving black terror,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
The Black Riders and Other Lines ~ Stephen Crane
|Storm Clouds, Maine ~ Marsden Hartley (1906)|
There came a day in early Spring
when I woke to abandonment.
“You did this to us,” accused my soul
and I bowed my head to weep.
As fast as tears fell into my cupped hands,
they dwindled and when I rose
my heart was a husk, left out to dry
in a world grown grey and dim.
I called for a witness to my loss,
as if I could measure what life remained
in me, but no one came
so I sealed my grief in a chest of bones
and smiled for all the world to see –
instead of that small, shiftless thing
anxiously awaiting the ominous hour,
I hid in plain sight, lived on an empty stomach.
Nights fall behind my back, consecutively,
as sure as the rolling cloud of dust
upon the bent horizon yawns to swallow
a vestige of life in one gulp. What remains?
A pulse submerged in loneliness
and every joint leaking sweet honey.
Thought dwindles upon a dying ember,
a single point of light goes out.
With cold fingers pressed to rib-bones,
I delve for the empty space below;
undetected, this cavity,
and once abode of my heart.
It’s no easy matter to find as deserted a place
where blood now pools without a beat
that I should dip my pen in such ink
to write of loss upon this page.
I began to write this poem several weeks ago, and kept getting stuck. It is part of my series inspired by Stephen Crane's The Black Riders and Other Lines and I wrote part IV before the other parts.
Marian shared the musical genius of Brandi Ediss, in particular the song Little Tiny, in her post in the Imaginary Garden this week (Music with Marian) and this gave me the inspiration to return to this piece and complete the missing lines.
And the light pours through my window
But the rain is coming down inside my head...
Little Tiny ~ Brandi Ediss