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Counting Medallions
by Ken HarnischSometimes I found myself staring up
At the medallions of plaster in the ceiling
Hating the silence, but fearing the noise
I’d have to make to end it.
It seemed easier to dream of her:
Not as she is, but as she was,
And putting those blocks together
To form a fantasy Legoland of love
To see her virtues when it was
Her flaws that doomed us. To wonder
What earthquakes I might have stayed
To turn aside the tsunamis of vitriol
Ah, but such was my battered heart:
To believe I was any more the captain
Of my Fate than I had been its author;
To believe that she sought in me a cure
By the by I stirred from the bed
Having counted medallions more
Times than I had years. By the by
I came to see I owned only myself
It was not easy to walk in lead
Or to believe my heart could beat anew
But gradually, one uncounted day,
I banged a tympani or two, and came alive
03/09/2012 Posted on 03/09/2012
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/09/12 at 03:42 PM A great flow of imagery and voice. This has such a perfect lyrical rhythm to it. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/09/12 at 09:20 PM Such lessons of love and growth here, Ken. Interesting to look through your words and your point of view. Thanks for sharing it. |
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