Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Poetry In Motion Without Getting On The Train



Her poem 'nocturne' adorns my door, confronting me every morning before I leap from my safety into the world outside to give up my bullshit and attempt the integrity Florence died in vain for.


nocturne

only in the greatest need of peace
will you be able to resist
those whose motives lack beauty

our island is punished by winter:
beneath the snowfall we linger, our tongues buried in silence

There's a kind of suffering that requires a stage,
a play,
a monotonous soliloquy
about extravagant vices;
finally in act five, scene one
Truth enters disguised as Manipulation

in the absence of contentment
this world can not continue
and the end will not be
some great crash
(or some great class)
but a mute isolation of spirit

to heal ourselves
we will repair another's wounds

slumber in darkness
until a dream opens
your eyes
your bed was covered with shame once
but now it is quilted
with a passion for empathy


- Susan Scutti
octoberbabies.wordpress.com

4 comments:

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cityofstrangers said...

CO - Good words to arm yourself with as you go out to face the day . . .with 'a passion for empathy'.

T.

c.o. moed said...

Words that pull my heart from the clutches of my frustration and annoyance... and chocolate isn't helping.