Wednesday, March 12, 2014

The Sector of Your Self

 Depression Sonnet (Hang on for now)

The sector of your self that longs for death,
Silent for an hour, has returned,
Reliably: for every hope that burned
Away its fitful moment in a breath
Has fled from you and from the shibboleth
That casts away all freedom. What is yearned
For, what you most desire, must be spurned
By order of "the voice that punisheth."

Heed the pause, the heartbeat of this time,
The glitter of the snow, the fading frost,
The dawn's initial drops from sunlit eaves.
Hear the wind, and every crystal chime
Of icicle that shatters and is lost.
Hang on for now, until the winter leaves.

-- Tuesday, March 11, 2014.


Any form of technical criticism is more than welcome!

1 comment:

Mark Fuller Dillon said...

Still more ugliness.

"Shibboleth / that" is unforgivably awkward. "What is yearned / for" looks like something created more for the sake of convenience than from skill.

On the other hand, the trochees and the spondee break up the sing-song rhythm, and for that, I'm grateful.