We are ghosts now, haunting ourselves rather than others. Is this a purgatory where the drab reigns supreme? Or do we stand at the entrance of the Inferno? I have seen no sign saying "Abandon all Hope," But I have felt it, Feeding on my sanity like a pack of hungry jackals. I have seen the headlines. One gone today, one hundred tomorrow, ten thousand by Monday. I pleaded with God that this day might never come While I walked among the fields of the living; Far from Elysium, but not burning in Gehenna. Still, I plead with God that the misery might end, That the fires of my mind might be extinguished. Ghosts we remain. A ghost I remain. Has the world outside gone yet to destruction? Or do we still wait our judgment, our torment, our damnation? This dull moment has stretched for a month, My mind plagued with anxiety, Robbing my thoughts, robbing me of reason, Depression robbing my ability to move, As I feel myself decay, forget, lose my grip. The world outside is vacant, but no longer welcoming. So, I watch at a safe distance, as nature takes its place, No longer a slave to the dealings and works of humanity. It won't remember us when we're gone. We loved nature once, God given, But the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Will we stay ghosts, trapped in a box, trapped in our mind? Or will God give us grace and take away this plague? For now, we stay ghosts of the natural world, Tire marks on a once busy highway where no one drives anymore, A carefully planned garden, half finished, with no one to cultivate it, In a constant liminal state of boredom and anxiousness As we wait to be saved from this Hellish imprisonment.
Well, clearly I wasn’t having a good day. I wrote this several days after the first. For this poem, I chose to include a lot more religious themes. As a spiritual person, this was something that I wanted to include. Of course, there are also the scattered references to Dante’s Divine Comedy. Dante’s work is among my favorites from Medieval times and I find Dante’s life to be rather fascinating. Not to mention, his work had a profound impact throughout religion, in both Catholic and Protestant theology. So, the references are sort of my nod to one of the greatest poets to ever live. The rest, like Reflections I, is me pouring out my thoughts and attempting to rephrase them in an artful way. However, this poem is more about me observing the current state of the world and wondering whether or not there will ever be such thing as “normal” again, if ever there was such thing to begin with.
This writing is the work of its author, Andrew Ryan Duckworth, and can in no way be reproduced, copied, or distributed in any form without request from the author.
The Writings of Andrew R. Duckworth 