Monday, May 25, 2009

Tears of currant

When did you know it would be you? That you would be the one to finish this?

There were many before you, all just like you in one way, vastly different in all the others, time and life oblige. You could speak of inheritance (implies intent) or curse (implies evil magic) or trans-generational constellations (implies something prettier than is accurate). But those are just names. What does not change is that black pearl, that darkness you've met before. Not a dark companion, this is much more sinister than that. While it may look like ancient wisteria climbing on a tall tree, it is not. It is a swirl of bleakness and desolation that started oceans ago and has woven and textured and entwined for generations.

You are the end of that line. You made certain of that. It will find no future home. The price you had to pay is heavy, but bearable. Any other outcome would not have been.

To those who would have come, could have come, you blow them a kiss from across this line. You believe they understand.

If tears were to be shed, they would not be clear. They would be the darkest of purples, the blackest mix of red and blue, blood and truth.

2 comments:

knavak said...

"the blackest mix of red and blue, blood and truth."

and you say that poetry intimidates you... bah!

Nicole said...

knavak - don't you 'bah' me! I guess it's the rules of poetry that intimidate me.