The Cleansing

Black and grey from each edge of the horizon,
The Rain falls down and washes so much clean,
It is a light rain really, made more intense,
By wind and rain, cold and fog.

I have been in the rain before,
Alabama rain,
Oklahoma Rain,
Rain in the Jungles of Central America,
Rain in Monsoon torrents in Korea,
Even rain in the Desert, fleeting but dangerous flowing down the wadis,
And it all meant nothing; it was just the condition of the world in which I was living.

But now I look to the rain to pour down,
And wash away my pain,
Wash me clean, like a newborn,
That I will see the truth of myself,
Not just the things I have done.

Pour down and reach my very soul,
And rinse the crimson stain,
Which drips from it all the time it seems,
Just as the rain drips from my hooded jacket.

And so I peer into the sky,
Blessing the black and grey that stretches across the horizon,
And cursing any flash of blue which signals the end of the falling moisture,
Which means the earth will become dry and dusty once more,
And my heart and soul will become dry like the sands of the Mojave,
And the stains that are there will remain.

So let the rains come,
Softly, torrential, cold or warm,
And cleanse that which ails me,
So I might live in peace.

Quincy R. Tatum
March 13, 2012

Full Moon

What is it that takes our minds to the dark spaces,
That brings out the devil in the details,
When you swallow the urge to fight,
And know that you cannot flee from it.

What triggers these boughts of melancholy,
Interspersed with violent rage,
And speckled with paranoia,
And eased by passing moments of joy.

Why is it that what makes us happiest,
Is overrun by that which tortures us,
Like an army, swarming over the wire with bayonets,
Shining and thirsting for the internal crimson of a man.

I long for peace,
And yet constantly stand poised for war,
Welcoming the release of all my humanity,
To the madness, that my very being seems to create.

I feel as though I am always the agent of the chaos that engulfs me,
And all those I love, and it makes me afraid,
Of the future, and whether I can sustain this stability,
Or whether I should seek life away from the trappings of man.

It comes upon me without warning,
And I fear the day it boils over,
And I will grow so weary,
That I let the chaos simply engulf me,
And cross the point of no return.

But right now I will hold back the tide that threatens,
And be the rock upon which the waves break themselves,
I will not give in, I will not give up,
For this life is mine, and I intend to keep it.

Quincy R Tatum
March 8, 2012

Broken

What is the sound of a soul as it shatters?
I imagine it is something between the wail of the grief stricken,
And the shriek of the mortally wounded,
Ringing out in the darkest night imaginable.

There was a Time when I know I heard this sound,
As my soul was broken, shattered like a pane of glass,
Hit by a thrown stone, cold shards like razors,
Invisibly piercing every aspect of my being.

The sound is only heard by the holder of the soul,
And the wounds created by the shards are bloodless,
But the appearance of the the holder of that soul changes,
Ages, as if time has taken them well beyond their years.

This is how I feel so many days and hours,
Moving through the world on step in front of the other,
Even as the scraping of the shards tears me apart,
From the inside out.

And after a time, the hurt digs in so deep,
That I feel nothing at all, numb as though all my nerves are dead,
And all that is left is the pain of the real world,
To remind me that I am still here.

Joy turns to sadness in an instant,
Just a look, a thought, a word,
And I am despondent, and crushed,
Sick in my core, bur still struggling on.

And so I feel nothing,
Taste nothing,
Smell or touch nothing that brings me what I need,
What will help me make it through another day….but for what?

This life has broken me,
I feel all used up,
And I fear the love I feel,
Is no match for the cold inevitability,
Of eternal solitude.

I remain adrift,
With few answers,
That I desperately need,
But fear I will never get,
From the broken pieces inside of me.

Quincy R Tatum
February 27, 2012