2 poems by Elest Ali

In the banal drudgery of never green enough

In the banal drudgery of never green enough,

Time falters and slips up to reveal

Those things which lurk in my blind spot.

There, hunched like an angel of misfortune against its scythe,

Life’s titan reserve terrifies me

And I am sorry that I was not

Enough to cherish what is escaping us now.

 

Welcome, Friend.

I’ve filled my heart again,

And You have come to empty it out.

The cycle will dip, drag on begrudgingly, pick up momentum, and eventually resume.

Like a second chance at lost childhood. One more time. And one more time.

And though they are numbered, I let them take my breath away.

Because the sea is imitating the sky tonight;

Because the hand which rested on my head

Could not have been more necessary;

And because that boyish cartwheel in our dash across the field,

Was the only thing missing from this evanescent perfection.

 

 This world is ugly but so full of Your beautiful things.

And I know that You love its stumbling people for their flaws and for their yearning,

And I know You love us, because You have let us taste this and be humbled

And I know You love me, because You take back now what you had shared

Because this brittle vessel is not big enough,

And overwhelmed, my heart has come so near to breaking.

Thank You.

Breath of Conclusion

Breath of conclusion blows through the autumn leaves.

Like them I hang my weary head in sad resignation.

Yet no wind to claim me, this year’s ending.

None to extinguish a spark willing to find meaning in its light,

when it leaves only darkness behind.

They whisper through me, ‘Open your eyes, little one. It is never finished.

Not yet. Not like this.’

And if these stones, these trees could talk,

They’d say that every man dies, yet not completely.

Traces of his absence forever linger for what resumes to mourn

…and pock marked with the loss of endless souls:

that is why this world is so sad.

And if these stones, these trees could talk,

They’d say that every man lives, yet not completely.

Traces of absence forever linger for an enduring humanity to mourn

…and pock marked with an endless loss of innocence:

that is why this world is so sad.

 

2006