Disturbances

Must we pay to travel between dark and light?

I quiet my own voice and listen.  What was not available to me before appears, unembodied, yet fully formed.

This wind.  Its sounds penetrate like sharpened visions, cutting through me with voices in languages I can only sense.  Doors open, my consciousness suddenly blown off its hinges.

I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell.  But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.

I have mingled my breath with forces I cannot control, and the gap is closing in overlap with both sides.

This wind cannot be contained by words.  It shivers me with fingers of fire and ice.  It is both more ravishing and more malevolent than eternity.  

Detached without beginning without end.

Prosery for Lillian at dVerse, with this line from Louise Gluck: “Reading what I have just written, I now believe”

25 thoughts on “Disturbances

  1. Now that you know you’ve dug the hole, you can begin climbing out. I also feel like we’re walking through a weird twilight world like the one in your collage, one hard to orient within at times. I trust in the 23rd Psalm and keep walking….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, my goodness, Kerfe. So powerful, chilling, wondrous, mysterious! And the wind. . .

    “I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This is so profound and philosophical, Kerfe. Made me think of Blake’s ‘Marriage of Heaven and Hell,’ which I keep coming back to. The themes you’ve broached here are some of life’s biggest questions.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Powerful use of the word “wind” — these lines hit me the most:
    “I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.”
    For me what that says is that sometimes we build our own despair….and make the choice to fall over the abyss rather than find a way through it or over it. Sometimes though, in reality and for those with mental illness or severe cases of depression, the abyss is too deep and there is an actual inability to build a bridge – they simply don’t have the tools to do it.
    Interesting spacing/construction of your prose. It almost looks poetic?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for your careful reading Lillian. You are right that we contribute to our own despair.
      I would never write lines this long for a poem, but it seems the lines between genres are blurring everywhere.

      Like

  5. Ah, so often we dig holes when she should build bridges and unwittingly set the scenario for our own despair. A very evocative write! Well penned.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to robertawrites235681907 Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s