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killed emotions

by Rhyana Fisher

tendrils of inky blackness
creeping, crawling, hunting -
gleeful little fingers
pry away at a grave better left undisturbed
they were buried ages ago
crammed into a casket too small for the many
marks of the battle still
easily discernible in the twilit landscape
although time ineffectually rubs at jagged claw-torn cliffs

obscene howling reverberates
as the lid slides free
slaughtered ghosts escape
whirling through dead gray air
faded colors they are copies of copies of copies
until only washed out remnants remain

their keening cries echo triumphantly
across the barren waste of their home
as they return, each snapping into place
flashing into a thousand brilliant colors
filling the blackness with unwanted, unbearable light
and their tormented murderer wails
too much! too much!

she flees, eyes burning
and crouches among the remaining shadows
but there is no hiding from these resurrected demons
brought to bay, she has no choice
these merciless pursuers must be faced
no defense before their accusing eyes
beaten, but with courage born of hopelessness
knowing the worst has finally arrived
with no way out but to unflinchingly endure
as their voices lash more viciously than any whip

WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?
the same word circles round and round
louder and angrier with each repetition
demanding the explanation
that would further tear open infected wounds
gaping, disfiguring sores refusing to be willed shut
eyes closed, she pretends the spectres do not exist
but it is too much and a fearful wail finally emerges
i don't know, i don't know, go away, i don't remember
and silence falls

time passes
afraid to look, to see if they still watch
but the silence is too awful
the dark behind closed lids also has its ghosts
it is too much to bear
eyes open slowly, carefully
but all is still, though the spectres remain
too bright, frozen in place
nauseous swirling halted
as they look away towards
something...someone walking from
the sunset

a child...a young girl...comes
slowly, stiffly, awkwardly
it hurts to watch her limp forward
pain obvious in each step
but grimly determined to reach her destination
the assembled ghosts part before her as she passes
some grudgingly, some gladly, all respectful
watching warily, triumphantly, silently
as she advances
a tarnished silver circlet gleams dully
in brittle lifeless hair

starved and crippled
dressed in rags and tatters
the child approaches
pace measured, solemn
all too soon she stands before the lost one
staring with ancient eyes
brown muddy pools, impossible to read
as the silence is broken by vengeful hisses
rising from the assemblage
make her pay! make her pay for betraying us!

she trembles
but there is no escape left
she knows the time for judging
long past due has arrived
and bright silver tears
slide down her face
as she collapses to her knees
bows her head
and waits long overdue punishment
the end, a death long awaited
ran from, hid from

they are the first real tears
since that long ago fought war
when she killed them all
buried them far and deep
where they could no longer hurt her
it was the only way, she told herself
the only way to survive
she knows the child can feel her thoughts
and she cringes - it wasn't the only way
but it was the only way she knew back then
and the shame of that choice
could not, would not
let her rest

shuddery sobs wrack her
as she bleeds those silver teardrops
and in her humiliation
she crumbles into a heap
in one last ditch effort to escape
as she hides her face against her knees
but it is not to be
fragile, translucent fingers, small and thin
gently stroke the side of her face
and a soft whisper
breaths against her ear, commanding
look at me

in startlement she complies
stares into that intense, burning gaze
as the child, louder, demands
name me...name me and i can help you
all is not yet lost if you know me

and once again silence falls
across the assemblage
and the lost soul, now found
ashamed of needing the forgiveness offered
nevertheless whispers brokenly
into the expectant hush
love

05/17/2003

Author's Note: in want of condensing. perhaps too much repetition. definately in need of work. but every time i try to work on it seriously i wreck the flow. maybe a little more time...

Posted on 05/17/2003
Copyright © 2020 Rhyana Fisher

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Ashok Sharda on 05/18/03 at 03:30 AM

'name me...name me and i can help you all is not yet lost if you know me', the vibrations of love. Associations never dies, that too, registered emotionally with a negative charge. They are there to raise their heads again and again. They can only be neutralized by equally vibrating energies with a positive charge. And yes this needs a bit of tightening.

Posted by Rommel Cruz on 05/18/03 at 08:46 AM

this too long! lol. im not sure why, but this somehow reminds me of pandora's box... emotions, are they really killed, or just hidden, entombed only to resurface once more. *shrugs*

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