Aletheia (poem)

My thoughts sharpen, drop entangled
to the floor and shatter
A hushed snap ringing in my ears for days
I collect fortresses of subconscious lies
to keep me warm, protect me
I do not need to feel you near me
And sometimes my poems grow so loud
I drown in their sound – but now it’s quiet,
borderline silent, and all I hear is
the wish-wash of my blood
I do not need

Today tip-toes to its nest,
to roll on its back and sleep
Mind darkens as the sun recedes
My life-long hooded companion,
divert your hollow eyes, don’t stir
I fell for you as if you were home
but you are not even you, no body
covered in black – I can’t live to believe
there is you welcoming me in death
Even when I feel your embrace

Quiet mind mumbles, covered in silence
Motion stutters and slows, suspended
I’m afraid, life: I’ll take your hand
And trust you

…with my own eyes I saw her, at Cumae,
hanging up in a jar; and whenever
the boys would say to her
‘Sibyl, Sibyl, what would you?’
she would answer, ‘I would die.’

(Petronius’ Satyricon)


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