Poet warrior's Blog: Poems, articles and musings.
A third snapshot.
Can you see there, another lonely face in the shadows, perhaps this is the last one, perhaps not. Like the others he was left there alone in the shadows.
He’s been hidden in the dark so long that he doesn’t know if it’s truly dark or if it’s because his eyes are closed.
He’s floated hither and yon like a seed on the wind. Spun around and around in all directions until he doesn’t know which way to turn to the sun or where the moon is. He doesn’t know if he is upright or upside down.
He just floats and spins in a space in a darkness that feels so all encompassing, so complete.
In some ways he has given up hoping because it hurts more when dreams aren’t fulfilled. Perhaps he’s been beaten into submission.
Don’t hope and don’t dream because if you do you’ll be beaten for raising your head in hope or the fire of dreams you light to keep you warm will be put out indifferently and callously. And you’ll be left cold and lonely with the message that boys like you shouldn’t dream and if you do dare to dream or hope it’ll be the worse for you.
In such a cold and dark place life becomes something to be endured. As you flee like a frightened animal from your pursuers. Scrabbling from one shadow to the next.
Even the thought of hope is lost in the midst of time and dreams feel as if they belong to another place. All you have left is the tatters; tatters of who you were, tatters of dreams that never came true and tatters of hope that you’ve left behind you like a trail of blood for your trackers to follow.