A Pedistal

by Christopher Shin

Do the gods have anything
to say when we worship them
and declare our desires to them?
Is it possible that we are
but mere pawns in the world?

Each day and night from the
small black box I watch
the world place the thieves
of our heart on pedistals.
And yet when I dream
and when I breathe I see

She who was my Aphordites, my Venus.
She who all hearts burn in
and explode in her eyes.
She who could make me
burn like a thousand suns.
She who could damn me to hell.

All the world could not change
the pedistals of our loves.
For me it was a girl or maybe a woman.
Maybe it was each drop of tragedy
in my vein that pulled her away.

Sometimes I think it was merely
my own neglect in my care for her.
Half the other time I believe
it was her fault for leaving me.
Other times it is truly absolutely
my own doing.

Each things I wish I could do over,
but time does not give me that option.
I am stuck with what I have done,
and the pedistal collects dust
as I try to remember what she looks
like now.


Posted on 11/21/2003
Copyright © 2023 Christopher Shin

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 11/21/03 at 05:16 PM

I really like these lines: "and the pedistal collects dust as I try to remember what she looks like now." because you were calling her your venus in the past, but now you cant even remember what she looks like, and she is long off the pedestal.

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