Aftermath

after Rolf Jacobsen, "Skytsengelen," Hemmelig Liv (1954).

I am the spear carrier,
not of any fame, not beloved,
as I would have wished.

I am the messenger,
hurrying from the burnt overland,
hastening towards tomorrow's sun.

I am the story
of a lengthening past,
too tangled to be well understood.

I am the bloody ink,
flowing in rivers uphill
against the steady gravity of time.

I am the flayed paper,
plastered against self-inflicted wounds,
against the deep longing to forget.

I am the covered boards,
hard pressed against intended thought,
this sorry diary locked in rust forever.
___
This poem emerged from a brief session led by John Minczeski at the Anderson Center. It was the day after 9/11 and that calamity was heavy on my mind. Later included in Poetry and the Artist: Collaboration II, Copyright 2003, the illustrating artist interpreted the poem as though apocalyptic.

Other poems by Roger Sween are posted on this blog, listed alphabetically at My Poetry, and on CeptsForm Index.

I welcome comments on this post. For personal comments to me, send to my email address.