This is one of my apocalyptic ones – a retelling of the the Fisher-King myth. The poem’s narrator has gone slightly crazy…
the high castle
the world is silent now
there was once something singing
in the branches of the dead tree
in the dark
it had a name
there were names for everything
i cannot remember them anymore
the older i get the less sure i am of anything
all i see is my world falling into darkness
stomping around the empty halls
with a festering wound that will not heal
i wish i could die
seriously
i wish i could die
*
the world has seen
alpha & omega
life still clings to this rock
let go
let go let go let go let go let go let go
before it all
happens again
*
long ago there was a vision –
a golden chalice
healing all the old wounds
of the broken earth
i do not know if it was meant for me
some days i painfully sit outside
by the river choked with dry weeds
watching a fading sun slowly threading
across the horizon
the trees scratching the dead sky
with bony fingers
hoping to see
a stranger
holding aloft
the golden cup
until then, i wait
(to
escape
the vortex
face the fury
& burn
Joanne Fisher
joanne the geek 