on the edge of the hole


the night is not so black

not so dark

not so hidden

that we cannot see

the alleyways of the soul.

buried in the trash of these

the stench of these

the color of these

Red cries from within

the walls high and divided

muting the message and the pain.

and another steps in-

the solution is plain.

the culprit of all our problems

soon sitting at the bottom

below in a hole in the ground

and someone says, “it will be forever,”

and no one rises to test it

and no one rises to declare

the hole may be a hole

but no one seems to care.

and so we labor, so many in the blind

like scattered cats scattered wide,

troubled alleyways of the soul

confused by the refuse in the hole.

what will change to bring change

what will endure with the loss of sight

what will you do with the hole

that stands on the edge of night.

8/30/2012

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, entrepreneur, and disciple- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. This blog is an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of my posts, thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple.wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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One Response to on the edge of the hole

  1. This poem has me entranced. Love your use of language and imagery

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