Becoming Orpheus
I have walked through hell and back
bearing a rose without petals
whose thorns tore and shred
the very fabric of my being
The descent began, suddenly
with the confidence of my self
being drained from the marrow
of my bone.
A strong man struck weak
in a blinding moment
a kind word that preceded
The whole of my sins past risen
before my like a vengeful angel
seeking to punish me
for wrongs both real and imagined.
A demon of my own making
come forth to bid me hello
and to cast me
into the void.
Alone with my inadequacies
both real and imagined
wandering lost through the wasteland
a soul too torn to be seen
Invisible in a world
of bachic voyeurism
of bodies punished
and passions released.
I am lost
a stranger in a familiar land
groping for forgiveness
crying for penance
my self clings to my core
like tattered bits of cloth
which I gather around me
as I emerge into the darkness
Am I yet found?