A Song Unheard

I need to go to the store and pray to amaranth, buy a bag and wade into the Aztec lake.  All eyes are upon me.  Yes, I need to go through my gate and then outside to confront the dirty war and the death of old leaders who spoke with cotton in their mouths and eyes surrounded by feathers.  I will pass the disappeared, the dead squeezed into 55 gallon barrels of acid, all of the common heroes that will remain buried with crushed DNA.  It is something I do not want to do, passing among evil soldiers sitting in the garden, yet I must do it, because I live here.  I am compelled to breathe, to think, but before I risk everything,  I will write this to you.  These words will be my amphetamine for the day, my release of pain into the atmosphere of despair: adding upon adding.

I wish I could pull you down inside of me.  That is the point of writing, to open one’s heart and allow coursing of a higher order.  A rush that changes rocks into tears and gets you to join the suicide hotline.  “Hello,” you say, “this is my heart beating.  Can you hear it?”  The dead don’t know what to say.  They can only mouth emotion from the inside of a plastic bag and they are like different shades of string wrapped around and around into a tight ball, but then they speak and the center of your spirit holds everything for them and everything that is dear becomes your words.

Where have we gone?  Are we overboard at sea?  Let us speak of the sea.  Call your mother in your dreams as you kiss the dark, undulating surface of night.  Nothing will hurt you, nothing will escape all that is good, and everything that is bad will one day come to a reckoning.  We must believe, even though we are suffocating, even though the animals have turned to oil.

We need to remember things that never were, but only hoped for.  This is our task in the mud. If there be disgrace, let it be on the others.

Yes, Aaron and Jan, we can be heroes if just for the day. You are the King and Queen and I am a song unheard.

Now I must leave to confront all the monsters outside my door.  They are waiting, but I shall be as a far-flung star ready to do battle with the staff of my infinite blue gaze or maybe I just can’t remember what came before and I’ll return to my house to make sure the dogs have all the water they need.  It’s been hot lately and I don’t want them to get dehydrated.


7 thoughts on “A Song Unheard

  1. Duke ,
    As I read this piece , I was thinking that this is America’s sad obituary and a very poignant reminder of the current shit hole that we are in with Trump and his douche bag gang of thieves . Though I am a positive thinking person , I am aware that I have my work cut out for me …that being said , I love to read your work!!!

    Liked by 2 people

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