Impossible

1161

~

when pain enters the room

and noise  – like thick smoke,

climbs into the bed

with orders to distract and torment

the truth is, it’s impossible to pray;

when voices rudely shout

 setting off alarms somewhere behind the eyes

scaring the familiar silence away

you risk everything, even a tumble out the window

brimming, swimming with all your might

you try to listen

but all you hear is the brass band in your head,

 there is a great pressure where once there was equilibrium

 you are lost in the cacophony

    choking on your own words,

until a buttery sulphur, a-fluttering,

happens by your window

and wraps you in its prayer.

~

© 2013 Wabi Sabi 

For Sunday Whirl #116

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20 thoughts on “Impossible

    • Thanks for commenting. I greatly appreciate your feedback! I did not think of the rising sun when I wrote this but it does work that way too. A yellow sulphur is (also) a lovely bright butterfly, fondly remembered from my childhood, but seldom seen anymore.

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  1. I hear the brass band clang and the cacophony choking!! The end was like a balm very soothing!! Your poems are as good as your haiku!! Lovely thought processes!!

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    • Thanks for your feedback on this poem. You are the second person to think I was referring to the sun (and I like that it can be read that way) The sulphur I was referring to is a lovely, very fluttery yellow butterfly which communicated silence to me… and comfort.

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      • Wabi, You never know how a poem will be read, do you?

        I like the sunrise after a rough night.

        You poem also made me think of how I wanted to jump out of the window when I was in labor during the night with my first child . The pain took over the inside of my head. In this case a yellow butterfly may not have been enough to get ahead of it.

        All the best. I’m enjoying reading your poetry.

        Alice

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        • I’m so glad you could relate it to a painful experience. That is exactly what the poem is about and how tough it is to find that quiet center in the face of pain and fear. The butterfly is a metaphor for a profoundly moving experience I had while I was hospitalized. Thanks for reading and for your feedback!

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          • Wabi. I’m glad you’ve been able to find meaning in difficulty and pain. I have t wait till I’ve been in the clear for a while before I can do that. I’m not so good in the middle of pain. I hope you’re better now.
            Alice

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