Remaining Within

Posted on June 27, 2016 by

33 Comments

From Time Magazine
From Time Magazine

We walked to the wall

holding hands

As dry as sheets of paper

You had LOVE tattooed

On your fingers

I can remember,

Dark the ink was.

The wall held a series

Of graffiti. FEAR

Is a word I remember,

Seeing there

Written in a quick red slash.

“It’s on the inside.” You said

“It doesn’t come from the outside.”

I ran my knuckles against

The rough edges of bricks

Painted upon, over and over and over

Slight changes of colors null

I always felt I could feel

The humanity, even in the most

Hateful things, things that fear

My knuckles became scuffed

I bled a little, stillness—still

I bleed a little more—remembering  

The depth of your tattoo

Dry against my bosom

The wall isn’t finished, can’t be

You said

“There is a bag of bricks

Hidden in our bushes,

Ready to be thrown

at our windows.”

I didn’t put it together

Until now,

why the wall was here

Why you left, why others leave.

We now live in two separate times

I have a child now

I can’t find the bag of bricks

Category: PoetryTags: , , , , ,

33 Comments on “Remaining Within”

  2. I know what you mean! When I look at some of the things I wrote a while ago, it’s like looking in the mirror and not recognizing yourself for a moment. It’s familiar, and comfortable, but a little startling to realize it’s You.

    I got to the ones I read today by clicking the “also in ___” links below the original post. It’s always worth it.

    Like

  3. Thanks my friend. I just reread the two poems you pointed out. I hadn’t read them in a long time. They move me. It’s like someone else wrote them, but I recognize the style as mine. It’s kind of creepy and cool at the same time.

    Like

  5. Pingback: Remaining Within – rexchloeduniya

  16. Elan this was touching. You have done justice. It reminded me of loss of my son years ago.

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  19. That was great! these words you write make me reminisce of my old crumbled brick walls that couldn’t be put back up.Good one!

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  20. So many walls, So many pictures, so few words. Nice work.

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  24. Very powerful. Immediately it took me to the Falls Road, in Belfast. I still meet people who ,lived there. The emotional damage, the scars, are indelible. Sally

    Liked by 1 person

  30. ‘Tis a Good un, Elan ! “I bleed a little more, remembering……….. ” Oh yes !

    Like

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