Poetry: #72 Scattering Thoughts (Demise 10)
And my thoughts after revisiting the words
Scattering Thoughts
If it can’t be helped I guess I can say that I’ve fallen in love again. Then, after love has been stricken, I suppose there is time to lament. I can’t tell if it is you or me or this place But every time I stand and smile I find that I can’t remind myself of this trial. This pain, this land, this fan. The pain keeps me cold and the fan makes me freeze in my cell. My home, and my land, my kingdom, my life. I live here now and I want to get out, except I can’t. I live in an infirmary of the soul with a stringent smell of stealth. Everyone had to sneak around; else they get thrown to the pits. I find these bits and little fits of all the people crying about family “I want to leave this penitentiary” the one man said. The reply he got was overwhelmingly positive. Well, that’s good for him I say but I would rather live in peace, alone. Solace brinks the pain in terms of remembering the consequences. Unlike prophecy I cannot see the past, the future, the last. My thoughts will never compare to what their connotations are.
What are your thoughts on this poem?
My Thoughts on Demise 10
We finally get some information about where the man is. He is in a cell, a prison, solitary confinement by the sounds of it. All this makes sense considering his thoughts up to this point. But, what in the world does the man mean when he says he’s fallen in love again?
I think he found himself, the emotion he sought from the last poem, what brought him to this place. Now, he sees what he has lost, and the emotion is enough to cause a stirring in him, so much so that he must lament!
The man tells us of his cell’s fan, how cold the place is to his touch, and that it is his home. Whatever crime he committed, it landed him there for a long time. He doesn’t want to be there, most inmates don’t, but he finds the people to be distasteful nonetheless. They are all sneaking about, doing this and that, and he finds people who just want to go back to where they are from, their former homes.
The man disagrees, as much as the prison is cold to him and the people are distasteful, he finds solace in the silence and the peace that is in his cell away from others with whom he finds disdain. He has no idea where he is headed, he cannot tell the future, but he wonders about it, and knows that whatever the future might hold, it will be unimaginable.
I am an introvert who likes to work alone most of the time, I do need that bonding time with others, and I will go and get it, but I do my best thinking, writing, and working alone. There is peace and stillness that can be harnessed for creativity, for self-reflection and self-realization. Exploring what I have on my mind has given me the words to write manuscripts, poems, essays, and everything in between. However, there is a dark side to thinking, brooding, stewing, remaining on those things that hold one back. This man has not let go of his past, he has relived it and now he is brooding. What comes throughout the rest of this collection is why it is never good to dwell on past mistakes or let slights to our person drive us into anger.
Question Section
Are you an introvert or an extrovert or something in between? How does that affect your everyday life? When you do take the time to reflect in the stillness of being alone, do you brood or let your mind go wherever it may? Let me know in the comments!
I hear another poem is coming every Saturday!