Sunday, June 18, 2017

Kit Kelen #530 - survivor's song



530
survivor's song

I wasn't there
not when the trumpets
not for the plague
not in the dark of the dream

one lies down
one falls out of the picture
one is no longer spoken of

I wasn't in the tree
when it fell
not in the noose
when lightning struck
I wasn't there

but I was somewhere then
was I still?
was I on my way?
had I been?
could I come back?

I was tearing the wings off of angels
I held a camera for the auto-da-fé

one lies down
one falls out of the picture
one is no longer spoken of

I was accused
below earth, over heaven
I had spoken the names of old gods
with respect
I had asked a question

is this hand raised in anger?
is this a salute?

one lies down
I was absent in mind
that sun burnt a hole through the earth
I was under a hat at the time

I wasn't there
I won't be

I caught it too
and we all went down

it's not what's coming that matters to me
I will not have been there

the place before the war
that is no longer now

and after the war
they are gone

weren't we sung here?
is there another way?

one shouts into the fog
falls from the frame
one is no longer spoken of

I wasn't in the trap they set
I didn't get in the way of the truth

I shook the earth too
I shook the sky
will I be safe in the dream?

the shoes of the hanged
are limp with the rain
curled in the sun
till they fall
or are stolen

hard times!
can you hear this song?
isn't this how we are here?

it is a practised dark
this dreaming
and home

here where we listen and watch
and must sing

if you think we survived
you weren't in the frame

don't you know it's their light
shines on me
the light of the gone
who were there
?

3 comments:


  1. the shoes of the hanged
    are limp with the rain
    curled in the sun
    till they fall
    or are stolen

    Quite great. Bardic. Dafydd ap Gwilym. Almost out of time. Limitations and powers. Annotation. You do this a lot. Writing long. To include. Don't miss anything out.

    ReplyDelete
  2. not to mention Villon
    ... don't mention Villon!

    O brother men who after us remain,
    Do not look coldly on the scene you view,
    For if you pity wretchedness and pain,
    God will the more incline to pity you.
    You see us hang here, half a dozen who
    Indulged the flesh in every liberty
    Till it was pecked and rotted, as you see,
    And these our bones to dust and ashes fall.
    Let no one mock our sorry company,
    But pray to God that He forgive us all.

    ReplyDelete

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