Mayflies to Mountains (Memorial in My Mind)

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It’s like a memorial in my mind.

Time has worn away the stone’s face

But the words remain

Carved

 

In layers of rock’s veins

We are mayflies to the mountains.

 

The sword in the stone was plunged

           (Does the ache linger?)

Then hid from our hundred eyes

           (Has our wound sealed?)

 

We are mayflies

To those mighty mountains.

 

Our battles are always lost

Only to begin with every sunrise.

We are dead.

We are born.

A Name is carved in the memorial.

That is my mind.

 

A title murmured; a psalm, a hymn

Then hate for those towers of stone resonates

Crumbling power

Drums

 

Drums

           In my chest, in my head

Drums

           In stuttered breath…

 

ALL MAYFLIES TO THE MOUNTAINS!”

Hear my roar!

This sweet Name shall be no more!

 

As I batter and shatter my delicate wings

On your stone cold skin

Your heart remains untouched within

Because I am not a mountain.

 

For I am mayfly

And have no monstrous might

           (Has my wound already sealed?)

My own wounds do not heal.

 

This is the battlefield

For the memorial to my mind.

 

To fill your shallow scars, my fleshed Blood,

The dust settles

I welcome resignation

It has become my shroud.

 

The sighs of all the dying mayflies

Mist

 

From the eyes of the mountaintops

Snow, flakes of rock, rain

Drift

Drop

 

Into the memorial of my mind

The words are hidden

You are NOT one of mine!

           But that Name –

It is forbidden!

           And yet…

 

The mountains’ scars remain

Our Name on the memorial

 

From my mind

Undeserving saint,

Hallowed taint

Makes you Mountain, molehill.

 

My passion is mayfly to your mountain

But our Name stays carved at the memorial

 

Why, my mind?

With all the pretty words I can’t bury

Alive

And all those dead I can’t erase.

 

           Time goes by.

 

– For Mayflies and their Mountains

 

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One response »

  1. Pingback: To Those Who Would Not Meet My Eyes (If They Knew) | Shaman's Antics

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