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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

Tag

sadness

Fingerprints

Fingerprints

One Name

One Name

Husk

Hey guys.
I hope you have been doing better than I have. I apologize for not having posted in so long. I wanted to write something positive and uplifting for you all, something to encourage you and give you hope. And I have faith I’ll get back to that place. But that’s not where I’ve been, and I don’t want to be insincere with you.
So thank you for your patience, and while we wait for that spark to return, here is something for you now. Because maybe some of you out there are here with me now, and maybe we can work our way back together.
 
Always yours,
Shigé

Husk

I pretend.

i-pretend

It Suffices

It Suffices

Losing You

I am terrified
To lose the image of your face,
That only heartache will replace
Its contours in my mind.
I am raw with pain,
And reaching for your fading shape,
Praying that it will not escape
The fragile, fickle bind
That is memory.
Is there nothing cannot be lost?
Have I not paid whatever cost
Was set for loving you?
Please leave something here,
Some happy shred of who you were,
One thought to which I can refer
For all the love we knew.

– s. Clark

Ashen

Her heart has become hollow,
Punctured, and all the love that filled it
Drained. The spear that pierced her killed it,
The rest of her to follow.
She wants to share compassion,
But she is a dried-up vineyard,
Dust. She keeps on digging inward,
But finds her soul is ashen.

– s. Clark

Missile Launch

One flick of a finger
Launched a missile
That blew us all to hell.
Critical implosion
At the center of our souls
Left a crater in our lives.
Collateral damage beyond calculation,
Fires of fear scattered throughout
The shrapnel of our dreams.
Standing amidst such
Mutually assured destruction,
We have no water and no tools
To put out each other’s fires,
Or rebuild each other’s hearts.
Too busy preserving
What little we have left standing.
The damage you’ve dealt
Is world-shattering.
How could you pull the trigger?

– s. Clark

Fatality

Fatality, for you, is just a word.
An abstract concept
measured in statistics.
Red numbers on a page.
Extra paperwork.
It once was the same for me,
a cursory glance,
a mournful sigh,
and moving on.
But now it bears
the crushing weight of familiarity.
Gut-wrenching impact
of experience.
The shocked horror of
recognizing
an enemy’s face.
Death has become too close
for me to name him
something so scientific.

– s. Clark

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