steel, death, other things sent up into the sky
we used to send our old prayers, our tears
now structures, buildings, defying nature and other manners
up in the sky, my heart sinks,
for the dreams I had compacted like money in my socks
there goes the sights I haven't seen
there goes the man I haven't yet told I love
atop the tower I do not wail for what I have done
nor whisper what I haven't, I just stroll
I think of women who dedicated their lives
to others, as usual, but some to the tower itself
sent men, husbands, children
received back notes of vanishing dreams
here, where man meets the sky,
Paris becomes a slow-motion roll of rain, hailed
into clouds, pick-pockets, children who do not think
I am able to read their words, their enthusiasm
the way a bird eye reads the scenery
but I can, for better names, for faster tongues
I read, a family, happy
a tower of steel, like many women
like my heart,
beating to a rhythm that's exclusive to the heights.
photo copyrights are mine, taken earlier this month in Paris, France.
I tried to write a comment that matches the deep words you have written, but I am too sleepy to be creative. I particularly liked 6 and 7. Its a very interesting approach to loss. Its always men who are credited for magnificent things we see today, but its women's sacrifice that is mostly overlooked. If man helped physically build something, there is a woman behind who sacrificed and allowed the world to be the way it is today. Not sure if my interpretation is what you intended, but my thoughts led me to that direction.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing :)
Thank you my dear for sharing this comment first and foremost and for taking the time to read my blog. I am glad you like this poem. This is what I was thinking, the Tower was made by a man whose name is glorified and made best, even when you are on top all you see is statues of him and other type of things but you never hear the women. I was shocked and it let to this poem! You are right with you analysis!
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading!