The Two-Headed Calf

Oh, my two-headed calf.
Your mother loves you all the same,
And will face twice the pain
When the morning comes.

When the sun will rise,
Your eyes will lose their light.
But, the night is young and finite.
So now, my beautiful abomination,
You see all the stars
Twice as bright
During this long night.

The only night.
Your only night.

All you know now is the joy of grazing on grass
And being so close to your mother.
It is all you know,
And all you will know,
My two-headed calf.

One of my current favourite poems is “Two-Headed Calf” by Laura Gilpin. Her poem served as inspiration for this one, and I credit her for the idea of the two-headed calf’s last night.

A Burnt Out Fire

The snow drifted gently through the trees
As the embers of the hearth faded out, one final time.

An atmosphere of fatality hung in the air,
A thick blanket of depression and sorrow.

No one held his hand
Or gave him their breath
As he went from this life
Into the next.

09/10/2019 – Strings

Loneliness and lethargy,

Keeping me company on this chapter.

I longingly await the light,

Alas,

Rather in life than in death.

When the clouds may finally break open,

And release all this anguish.

Oh, when may I see this day?

An endless number of strings pull on my heart,

Threatening to tear apart the stitches, placed so many times.

Frail arms clutch tightly around my chest,

In a painfully hopeless attempt at composure.

Holding on,

Barely.

Strings of a full spectrum of colour,

Ironically pulling me further into darkness.

Memories of days when the sun’s warmth still registered,

Of when there was a satisfaction to life.

Oh Lord in the heavens above,

Is this all there is?

As if life is a faulty rollercoaster that knows only how to travel down.

My pitifully weak mind is not enough,

Torn apart and put back together so many times over now.

I beg for something,

For someone,

To give me life.

I speak these words but there is a painful awareness,

That I should reach out,

Independently achieve greatness.

Doing so would sacrifice this containment of my heart,

Allowing it to get ripped out of my chest.

Maybe this time,

The stitches won’t be necessary.