Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Knowledge of the Other




Here we are again, I say to the dragon.

Yes, he answers.  Here we are again.

I am tired.
I keep trying
I wait for the snowdrops each year
and they come
and I admire them
but something has happened
the wonder is gone
this was why I never meant
to know.

The riddle.  When?

There is no riddle.
Just words to the saddest song in
the world
whispers that eat away at denial
not the rotten bitter kind
but the type that keeps the
hopeless alive.

You are still afraid.
You are ruled by fear.

So easy to say when you can burn
what torments you
I do not have that luxury
I must stand on my toes to look over it
as I try to admire the
snowdrops in the
garden
I must make peace with
dwindling denial
how sweet it was
that blue sky I saw it
I believed
now I am resigned
tell me
is this victory?

There is no winning,
the dragon tells me.
There is only acceptance.
Remember the riddle.
It is your only choice.

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