In the beginning, my consciousness struggled, birthing itself in an Age of Chaos, Baptizing itself in Waters of Sorrowful Lament. My soul labored under its newfound understanding, as a fawn struggles with its new legs, And my heart was grieved to discover that I was alone. One woman remained in the house that was “home”, An older, kindly face, whose voice, though deep and gravelly, sounded like a lullaby to me, and laid my fears to rest. But, indeed, she was poor. And because of this poverty, I was lost. My fears were reborn anew, and for twenty-some years, I wandered aimlessly, Crying to the Sun for mercy… Never considering to cry to That Which Powers the Sun. My anguish ravenously devoured my soul till only the void was left, though which my sanity nearly escaped. Ignorantly, I dissolved myself of any obligations to my fellow man, My heart hardened from my travels. Ferociously, through word and deed, I fought for my survival, but collapsed Upon realization that I had been struggling against only myself. Wearily, I trudged “home” again, only to find “home” infiltrated by impostors. The kindly old face contorts under her struggles; her love is strained As the needle and the spoon hits the floor, echoing into forever. I watch helplessly as her love also transforms her into a slave. From the blackness of the night till the hint of light touches the sky, She guards what little she has, sobbing, for G-d’s money has been stolen from her Bible. Day by day, and one by one, we watch our family’s treasures disappear, Selfishly exchanged by blood corrupted for a moment’s pleasure. As the years go by, her eyes become vacant, and the madness creeps over her being… And all I can do is weep for the days long past, days of cookies, and candy, and Grandma’s unconditional love. For what have I of value in this world, once her love dissipates? When will the L-rd find my struggles sufficient and deserving of rest? My head wobbles carelessly, as I lose my vision through weariness. How long must I wait to discover the comfort found within the word “home"? The word "home" loses its comfort when the only one living there is yourself.
I love the flow of this poem. Each stanza is a stage, and none overlaps the others. The beginning of the poem creates instant empathy between me and the speaker... lines like "as a fawn struggles with its new legs" and "because of this poverty, I was lost" drew me in very successfully. I believe that the first two stanzas of this poem are the most communicating and profound. However, I am not a fan of the last line. It is too argumentative to end a poem like this, and leaves me feeling that the speaker has not really learned anything... maybe you should find a new clincher that will sum up what you are trying to communicate with your poem. I also think your imagry is quite successful. Good job.
wow, hip! that was deep and full of emotion. It was really good and also sad, too. ((Hugs)) My prayers are with you.
