Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Beyond Repair

You had to leave
In a stench
Of half spoken words
And a miasma of pain
We’re all moving
On and away
Taking turns
Around another corner
Packing those boxes
Again and again
Locking these doors so firmly
Posting keys, walking away.

2 comments:

aria said...

these words are full of longing.. I think most rending kind of war is not between two hatreds but between two hopes.. if you know what I mean.. and at the center of much of our trouble is a simple desire of 'home' but the right one perhaps is elusive..

Chris said...

The Greeks had this idea of a "miasma" of tragedy that would follow a whole family sometimes didn't they, until the Furies had tracked everyone down and killed them? Was it Oedipus and his lot, I forget?

It a good image, and one that you use well here in a slightly different context.