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​
SOLACE
​

a bit of respite 
there at the edge of town 
where battles were fought
and all those dreams 
in receptacles lie


where you stood up 
and sat down 
and roared into the night 
against the dying of the light
in your bloodshot eyes


where you burned and yearned 
and swilled and swaggered 
where your rigor was not mortis 
but vigor and often coitus


still alight with all you've yet to do 
it burns like a shadow-play bulb 
casting magnesium ribbon flashes
eternally blinding all who look 
directly to the source


ignoring the wondrous figures
dancing darkly upon the sheet

                       *
I'm still there with you 
at the drop of a hat 
or a phoneme bent into memory 
where you can hear a pin drop


subtle movement 
a slip of tongue
triggering action
in the dying body of life


I'm still there with you 
riding hard and true 
into the night


mind and body 
one and the same 
suffering mass 
of gray matter and bone


alive in the blistering moment 
the universe done and undone


a flash of flesh 
on the asphalt street
trained hands and feet 
moving slower, but more deliberate now


legs taut and taught 
all the tricks of tradecraft 
used and abused
all in and all out again


waiting, waiting, waiting
for the right moment
for the order to come down 
spring loaded decades 
become a lifetime

                     *
you were never supposed to 
wait for permission 
or ask for forgiveness 
no matter what they said


the time for that 
was over long ago


protocols mattered 
when there was a mission 
but when they've traded it all 
for conniving comforts 
and silly things
leaving nothing of merit
for the past or future...

you know all bets are off.


you had to know...

you had to know 
that a universe
had to be destroyed
for you to be truly born


arrested development
of creator and destroyer


arrested development
of will to power


arrested development
of solace given and solace taken


a dirty handshake
nullifying the resurrection 
of some great dead love
blocking the sun's light
in the pure unfettered smile
of the discarded


how close I am to thee...

wrinkled and gnarled 
in the darkness
eyes barely seeing
but supplicating in gratitude still
for a chocolate and some water


oh, Lord thank you... thank you, Lord...

how fortunate am I...

an uplifted head from squalor
raised now high 
praised now low
in endless gratitude


lips moving a seeping mouth
a tiny mouth with tiny teeth
with so much love


how close am I to thee...

                      ***
Somewhere on skid row,
a homeless man deftly pockets
a dollar bill from the pavement
as he pretends to tie his tattered shoes.

He smiles as he imagines
giving his daughter
a new pair of socks
for her eighth birthday.




                                       --akm





© Ara Mgrdichian
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