Until You Return by Richard PaezThe day breaks.
Its pieces fall to the ground.
These are the dreams of the dead,
the tears of the unborn
overfilling the swamp-sky,
spilling,
soaking the cloud-earth
as unnamed colors
reach down to touch me.
I watch as you sink into the mire
like a child drifting away,
gently drowning in sleep.
Mesmerized I stare
as your mouth disappears,
now your nose
and, at last,
your eyes.
I will miss you
I will remember you—
the strange gods you prayed to
breathing your smoke and your fire,
the water you blessed to anoint the wicked,
the fevers that possessed you
that took you places I cannot know—
these sacred things that burdened you
that raised you above me
I will keep them for you
until you return
dripping water and fire
ravenously cleansing the world.08/03/2005 Posted on 08/04/2005 Copyright © 2024 Richard Paez
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Ava Blu on 08/04/05 at 03:18 AM you are the poetic Maestro. |
Posted by Melissa Arel on 08/04/05 at 07:36 PM Amazing.. |
Posted by Sarah Graves on 08/04/05 at 10:08 PM This takes me through an intense emotional ride, drunk almost (and I use that word loosely) You put all those feelings in a bottle, just waiting to be opened. Exceptional work, once again. |
Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 08/05/05 at 12:53 AM Such a powerful piece...almost like saying goodbye to someone who practiced voodoo...very eerie visuals here. Great work! |
Posted by JD Clay on 08/05/05 at 01:27 AM This type of poetry is difficult to comment on, brother. I don’t necessarily go for it when people copy and paste select verses into the box as if to stretch their word count, but if I did, I’d have to click and drag the whole damn poem on over, then stare at it dumbstruck till the next dishwater blonde showed up. This stuff is that good, top to bottom.
You've blown the lid right off free verse with impressionist glimpses that go beyond all the OMG's and STFU's in the history of journalism.
The opening salvo still has my mind tied up in a pedantic slipknot. Heh, I’m not often lost for words, but these have me in Chinese finger-handcuffs.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to memorize this emblazoned poem, just so the ‘malachi effect’ can soak in.
pe4ce...
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