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To a Faithless Colonialist
“But this must have been before his - let us say - nerves, went wrong …” - Heart of Darkness
Reverberating like a carefully controlled
music. The trees in fact betray
no conscious hand. The night has polled
the peaks and valleys of the fray,
the dark metropolis that is your heart,
and found no truck with national charms.
Your nerves aren’t right. A child’s art
cannot disguise the bloody, outstretched arms.
You will not say a word. And if you do, I’ll wrap
my worsted hands around your throat, and tell
the King you died in love’s recumbent lap.
In either case, you’ll die adored and out of hell.
You say we’re metal pipes inside a human heart,
I say we keep it pure; the pipes are but our start.
Reverberating like a carefully controlled
music. The trees in fact betray
no conscious hand. The night has polled
the peaks and valleys of the fray,
the dark metropolis that is your heart,
and found no truck with national charms.
Your nerves aren’t right. A child’s art
cannot disguise the bloody, outstretched arms.
You will not say a word. And if you do, I’ll wrap
my worsted hands around your throat, and tell
the King you died in love’s recumbent lap.
In either case, you’ll die adored and out of hell.
You say we’re metal pipes inside a human heart,
I say we keep it pure; the pipes are but our start.
Published 12th Sep 2023
Author's Note
Reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad for my Master’s degree. Wanted to write a poem about my thoughts on its themes but am not sure if this isn’t just a confused mess that no one will get. We’ll see, I guess!
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