[Something once innate, lost]

Closest to life; a pulsing squirming life,
those eyes screwed up like broken petals.
A laughter, tip-toe deep and
the mewling, spitting rage of
a catfight in the dark.
Each year another candle burning memories
while slowly, gathering together, the joyous grip drips away -
like wax.

That laughter so sought after, gone,
never again the careless wonderment bursts
from a chest that beats so willingly
Breath is not quick, fought for, held so close,
but cold, lingering, unwanted.
Another year, another candle burning memories
and again, melting down, the freedom fades and flickers -
like flame.

Colours darken, shadows form and blue light eerie shines,
wasting something ungraspable that flitters
a heart pointless, breathless, cold.
Our faces lengthen, and
Our voices deepen, as do our fears.
Each year, the candles swell, burning memories
and – something, once innate, lost – we grip to some hollow god.

[Something once innate, lost]

Josephine Sayers

Emsworth, United Kingdom

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Artist's Description

This poem was meant to describe the way that we all seem to be born with this burning desire to hold on to life with all our hearts. Every moment matters as a child, and our fears are strong and we fight to escape them. As we grow, this seems to fade, until sometimes we even wonder what leaving this life would come to and how we could leave it.

Artwork Comments

  • wigs
  • Josephine Sayers
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