Watching through the windowpane
The sky dark’ning up with rain
The world is full of lies and pain,
I know I’m slowly dying.
Through the boglands of my mind
I search all day trying to find
The key to what is coarse and pined,
The locksmith of my being.
I’m watching through the shield of glass
Realities born and come to pass
The lives of those whose lives are crass
Without the will of trying.
Beyond myself there’s something dark
That shimmers in the lightning spark,
That cries among the meadowlarks
That, blind, is still all-seeing.
Your words like shadows fall to dust
And life beyond is free from lust,
That which was born again must die
And I will always wonder why
I muddle through alone.
My self is like a dusty book
Into which no one dares to look,
For those who do cry out in fear
There’s nothing left alive in here!
I move through life alone.
But you who walk through shadows too,
You know me and I know you,
Your life is lonesome and so true,
Our minds are our salvation.
What once was dark is darkened still,
But we, perhaps against our will,
Move closer to the windowsill
To watch the calm ovation.
The light—it glimmers from the doors
That, cleansed, shall kneel on all fours
To see those proportion abhors—
The light becomes our creation.
-Kaitlyn Medina [9/8/10]