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Utica Crib
“Utica Crib”
A silhouette I thought I knew
Told me to lie, and to dream,
“And the sky is never as blue
As when it cannot be seen.
Your ‘home’ is a state of mind.
And while suffocating upon the air
Think of a means to find
The door that is waiting there.”
I can’t help but view diamond shadows
In a world that no-one knows
Where, wilted, anew, a flower grows—
Young again, outside the door
Of seasons washed ashore
In a sunlight never felt before
Where the newborn robin calls
Past the stillness of the waterfalls—
Past the grasp of these iron walls.
Someday, it will die with me:
The blushing blooms will disappear
Of this world no-one else can see.
And the words only I can hear;
I dread that, with my final breath,
I shall hear them speak that day,
In the moment of death—
Never to silence or to decay.
A silhouette I thought was mine
Whispered through my ear.
“Stains such as thine
Are not welcome here.”
I felt I could sleep then
And never wake again
Thanking God for the prison,
Thanking God for the prison,
Thanking God for the prison.
© 2021 Marten Hoyle
A silhouette I thought I knew
Told me to lie, and to dream,
“And the sky is never as blue
As when it cannot be seen.
Your ‘home’ is a state of mind.
And while suffocating upon the air
Think of a means to find
The door that is waiting there.”
I can’t help but view diamond shadows
In a world that no-one knows
Where, wilted, anew, a flower grows—
Young again, outside the door
Of seasons washed ashore
In a sunlight never felt before
Where the newborn robin calls
Past the stillness of the waterfalls—
Past the grasp of these iron walls.
Someday, it will die with me:
The blushing blooms will disappear
Of this world no-one else can see.
And the words only I can hear;
I dread that, with my final breath,
I shall hear them speak that day,
In the moment of death—
Never to silence or to decay.
A silhouette I thought was mine
Whispered through my ear.
“Stains such as thine
Are not welcome here.”
I felt I could sleep then
And never wake again
Thanking God for the prison,
Thanking God for the prison,
Thanking God for the prison.
© 2021 Marten Hoyle
Published 22nd Aug 2021
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26th Aug 2021 1:12am
Absolute masterpiece, which articulates several things better than I have ever managed to. It's a bittersweet experience, for sure. Sometimes I feel different and special; sometimes I remember that there are lots of us, and other times I wish it would just do one. Thank you for sharing.
27th Aug 2021 11:36pm
Ellie,
Thank you for your kind words and consideration in commenting on my, "Utica Crib" poem. It isn't often that people speak to me of, or "share" my work. So, it is always a pleasure to hear from people such as yourself. Keep writing.
Best wishes,
--MH
Thank you for your kind words and consideration in commenting on my, "Utica Crib" poem. It isn't often that people speak to me of, or "share" my work. So, it is always a pleasure to hear from people such as yourself. Keep writing.
Best wishes,
--MH
