Apotheosis

Sometimes ideas for stories and poems will sit in my mind and takes an age, even years, to reach paper in a form I'm happy with. Winter, Wounded is definitely one of those, and is a poem idea that I struggled to satisfyingly execute for almost half a decade. It sat in my mind, and I would come back to it every once in a long while, but to no avail until recently. This poem, however, is the opposite, and is something that went from idea to finished piece in a couple of days. I have known of the subject, of which I will let you piece, for some time, but the idea to write about it and what I wanted to convey was the polar opposite to how most of my creative workflow seems to operate. Hopefully I will have more bursts of writing to post in the future.

Enjoy.

I know

I know that you’ve come here for me.

You bear words and sharpness

Brought to my sterile, bottled shore

To bring

This heavy head to its pantheon.

Glint slipped quick from girdle.

One life for ten thousand more.

I lie

Interned in this cold lake

Drafting my treasons to you.

One fortnight, they’ll lie too.

I can't

I won't fight what you bring.

I am so tired and my body so absent.

Help me, my beloved.