I was going to ignore the call to write a poem a day for April #NationalPoetryMonth, but since I’ve been writing a poem a day anyway, I decided to give it a whirl. This is day #4, and this is the poem that I came up with, while processing some things in my life.
I stand, screaming, as expectations die
Crucified on elevated planes;
What was cannot now be.
“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”*
Is this the end of the era of happiness that engulfed us?
We – swept away in Passion’s tide –
Wave of euphoria crashing upon reality’s shore
Vainly surfing climax’s crumbling crest…
But, everything has changed.
Can visions of peace still be seen
While carnage greets the naked eye?
Can a day where no one dies be imagined
While cadavers are carted away
And the stench of death hovers?
The Grim Reaper’s scythe is busy…
* – 46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? (Matt. 27:46)