The Falling Man

The Fall of Man, Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo

An old lady runs
knees creaking
hurting
breathless
yet she misses her bus
not that the bus driver did not see her
he rather not wait

watch her face fall
disappointed
thump
her heart falls
colliding with her stomach

a couple argue in the bus
playing tug-of-war with their hearts
until hearts tear, ripped out
destroyed, first one and then the other

nobody weeps but the starving children
sitting on the street

and you stand
watching

Caught between the chasm
between pleasure and boundless pain
Restless, dissatisfied
Guiltily pleased
Relentlessly saddened
as life throws one thing after another
you feel like drowning

Sympathy, helplessness
anger, a vapour that seeps through your skin
evaporating
infecting
you absorb
their pain, and emit yours.
You feel it deeply
and then let it roam free
like a lion
it roams around you
Shadows surround you.

Lights off.
You hit the switch.
Click.

Questions burnt
An emptiness rings a loud ring
echoing
in your head.

Is the sun rising or setting? You ask
There, where?
Is that the full moon or the setting sun?
Or an owl
lost.

Coo.

Lost, you are.
In a whirl of messy thoughts.
Poor posture
it all floats
not making sense
the television offers cheap entertainment
and cheap sounding jingles
you buy distraction
Hell.

The self wraps itself around the eyes.
Hugs your body tight.
Tight.

and then you take petty joy in suffering
like only a hurting vengeful soul would

love
adoration
loyalty
justice
all good things
become only words that float around you

What have you lost,
what have you gained?
What values do you hold,
which ones remained?

Look at pain
and smile
nonchalantly
you take joy
in another’s pain.

Living not for God,
unsure.
It ain’t the devil you were worshipping either.
Who knows.
Yourself.
Living for the self.
Self.

You try everything
use everyone
Exhaust all resources and then
you are left with nothing.
Nothing.

You smile your way through the day
by the end your smile stays plastered
yet
all you really did was lie
you joined the crowds
call the wolf bad
then your sheep clothing peels off
and you hide

Deny, deny, deny
denial becomes your expertise
then you lie through your teeth
whistle in the storm
The day ended
and you felt like you ended too.
die with a laugh plastered all over your mouth

perhaps today you reached hell
and realised
hell was not being covered waist high in pig waste
or being deep fried like a human wonton

You call out
and the echo it stabs you in the back
you see only blinding darkness
that is thicker than your winter jacket
you hang, in suspension
being neither at the top
nor touching the bottom
kicking and screaming
tired.

With
no perspective
no aims
no sense
no love
no hope
no dreams
no hate
no sadness
no feelings

no life, no death
no soul
nothing.
That is hell.

You look to your left.
To your right.
And there before you
in the chasm
hangs
one choice
one whisper
one shout
illumination
freedom
living might be what you had wanted all along.
You surrender
one yielding heart.

You start again.
living
Life.

Advertisements