You found a way to put yourself back in a favorable light, to collect silver coins and count them as you trained your mind to forget you ever knew me.
You were my friend but convinced yourself otherwise, acknowledging me with your kiss of treachery in the stillness of my own dark night. All that was required was a nod
in my direction and a whisper whose echo misrepresented the truth of who I was. But what was the difference, really, when I’d become such a disappointment to you?
Did the clinking sound of success lure you to reason’s edge, where, transfixed, you stood unable to forgive yourself? How I love you, Judas; how I miss my friend.
In the soft dawn of the morning after there can be a new beginning. Cast off shroud of darkness cloaking true self. I am waiting with arms outstretched.
Betrayal by those we love is so excrutiatingly painful. Forgiveness is hard and the barrier of guilt and hurt is an obstacle hard to traverse. The wounding party must acknowlege guilt and the wounded must forgive without blame. Insightful, psychological write...
Goodness me, what insight... as Janet says, this brings scenes from The Passion of Christ full before the eyes and to the front of the mind, so to speak - and then relates them well to situations known in some way to each one of us, I am sure. I don't know for certain why, but I am made to think not only of the pain of betrayal of friendship here, but also of how others sometimes unwittingly put us through these kind of mental agonies by their denial of a truth and thereby forcing us into a situation where we, too, try to dismiss the reality as we see it - i.e. they force us, because of their own control, to "accept" their interpretation of events in a "there-there" kind of dismissal. Our own feelings are therefore almost portrayed to us as a lie - or, at best, just plain "wrong". Perhaps this makes little sense to you - but you have made ME think and callibrate - so this must be GREAT poetry! Bless you and thank you. Kate xx On the other hand, you can begin to feel a little sympathy that Judas ultimately "hated" himself for "being him" in the end. Seems like there are no winners here. Powerful and poignant, Dawn.
*tears* O, this is powerfully penned...draws the reader short and causes them to look inside themselves...truly a special write. Thank you, Poet and friend!
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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Love Tinka
*tears* O, this is powerfully penned...draws the reader short and causes them to look inside themselves...truly a special write. Thank you, Poet and friend!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :) *a keeper*
written poem of understanding! Splendid!
Eileen
I too have been reading without comment when I'm in the mountains at my friends I get interrupted a lot, kids in and out etc ;-)