I could just walk away
if I remembered there was a way
not leading back
to the same strained knot
drawing tighter with each attempt to untie.
The knot that binds
Like a lock to echoing whines
of ‘mine’
‘mine’
‘mine ringing like knells,
appearing as bells
stitched as patterns
to the bodice of some other woman’s lace.
Bells waiting to be rung
and if I un-frayed, un-done.
So we fail
and we wonder,
how tangled a knot do we weave?
In this ceaseless scramble to assemble
the pieces of a bi-polar puzzle
that ultimately renders incompleteness?
Not a puzzle padlocked and buried
like your Persian cat, clinging to the curtains of its own defective life
long after the blinds of compassion were drawn
its essence faded and gone.
But a puzzle placed in a cardboard crypt,
safe in its closeted cemetery
lined with memento-mori.
All the broken pieces of our past
tightly bound with a tourniquet of love
that failed to staunch the razor’s flow.
Poetry by SS Matthews
The ending verse is sad but this question struck me:
how tangled a knot do we weave?
Maybe by changing “mine” to “we” or “ours”?
Thanks grace, I’ll take a look at that!
All the broken pieces of our past – What a great line, what a felling of pain and regret. Like a twisting knife. I loved this.
Thanks Alan, this one carries a jagged piece of heart in the lines.
This is a poignantly powerful statement about loss. I especially admire the metaphor “clinging to the curtains…..long after the blinds of compassion were drawn” and the closing lines about “the tourniquet of love that failed to staunch the razor’s flow”. Whew! Fantastic writing!
Thanks Sherry, this spring from a time I don’t normally choose to remember, but some ghosts are not easily laid to rest!
love the visual of the knot along with the puzzle, the pieces, bells – hmm relationships at their knotted up best – excellent
The reef knot picture is well chosen – the exact knot which grows tighter when pulled on. (As I expect you knew.)