Carnage

A dark poem about sinister childhood memories, by Gopal, exclusively for Different Truths

Today I summon all those sinister, childhood shadows
inside my dark room,
my long memory laboratories,
they follow me everywhere,
humming calendar songs,
I wash and rinse them, split them with a broad sword,
peel them with a butcher’s knife.
 
I have to tell my unfinished story to the children,
of chaotic time,
of two poles of loss bringing
the long scars down the years to me,
piles of debris
hide the uncremated bodies,
times converge into a flashpoint, into a crimson river.
 
When old world is dying, I still search something
transcendent in the balance of blame and guilt,
for the self-appointed heroes
or the plot spoilers,
between the blood-stained walls,
the streetlights even now
quiver in contours of the yellow leaves.

Visual by Different Truths