Guest Poet Catherine W. Bourn
Untitled
I wiped the moistness of my eyes
smile
no more fear that these tears give pleasure
except mine
for me
still just a novelty
the tip of my finger follows
the snail like trail
to the corner of my mouth
such a delicious taste I think
lost in this life maze
running, turning, searching, searching, searching,
for a different way than I came
from hell
the only path I've been shown
crumbling to my knees
in realization
please somebody help me
please
oh light so sublime in stature
I can see
these saline drops become a flood
dissolving all the grime
two score and more
I can see
over there
like a mist receding at dawn
before these moist eyes
unfolds a new path.
It wasn't here before
or was it
as far as I can see
Karachi
and the sky so blue
colors exploding from everywhere
so vivid,
so vibrant
so new
it can't be this easy
fears bonny fingers
embedding in my shoulders
another trick?
will I blindly run this path
for another deadened prize
shall I
I wipe this moistness from these eyes
smile
no more fear that these tear's give pleasure
except mine
for me
still a just a novelty
the tip of my finger follows
the snail like trail
to the corner of my mouth
such a delicious taste
I think
and I run...........
November, 1997
Catherine W. Bourn's Questions:
1) I'm unsure about the title, I'm thinking either Life Maze, or Learning to Cry.
2) I have not touched this poem since I wrote it, but I wonder if it reads 'too worked'.
3) I wonder if it needs "from hell".
Correspond with Catherine W. Bourn at
flick@voyager.co.nz
with your ideas about this poem.
The Albany Poetry Workshop