Photo courtesy of Munkhtulga (Tulgaa) Dodo
Photo courtesy of Munkhtulga (Tulgaa) Dodo

Lives lost as lives often are,

He stared across the dimly lit

Cityscape as he reflected on

The poverty of the soul

That had recently stopped

His otherwise flawless sprint

Through the tall grass

And wild flowers.

In another life, another time,

Or so it felt now, so distant,

Happier days with a wife

Who shared everything with

Him until something inside

Changed them both,

From which they never returned.

A son and wife so close,

Yet never to be touched.

Nothing seemed to matter much

After leaving that life,

But he found a new one and

With it, new complications

And strife and love and hope,

Everything rebuilt on the ashes

Of what seemed to be impossible

To rebuild.

Tragedy: A house of ashes

Cannot stand for long in the rain,

And soon the man saw grave

Injustice, and rose against

Such outrageous fortunes,

Only to be crushed by betrayal

Of the one he sought to save.

Years were lost in a cell.

“No more shall I help those

Who look like they need help,”

He spat scornfully one day,

“No more shall I trust others,

No more shall I fall into such

Follies that crush good men

Such as myself! No more!”

He shuffled through the snow.

So much was right with everything now

But so much was not enough;

It was never enough!

Could it ever be enough?

Black and white photos from

Bygone eras and pretentious edits

Electronically imposed on modern shots

Could never be enough.

“Shapeless is the void that haunts men’s hearts,

Men with dreams of lives with

Families they love and protect,

Dreams of fairness in their lives…”

He paused.

“Dreams of receiving another chance

When circumstances conspire against.”

He swirled his drink.

His life was quiet, much like

This still night he looked out upon,

The loud laughter of children

Long since dissipated into darkness,

Chatter from elderly couples and mothers

Quieted by glittering stars,

Somewhere far away but very close

Were they seeing these same lights?

Composed 08/03/2013

Author’s Note: I recently lost a friend. A good friend. I have written this post in advance of when it will actually be posted, because I feel too much time will have passed if I wait until later to write it. I can’t think of what to say, how to express it: There are too many complications, complexities, nuances, shades of meaning and experiences not wholly able to be processes simultaneously. Perhaps not even individually. There may not be another time I am able to write this, yet I’m dropping all of my words like a small child trying to carry all of his toys at once.  You were a good man. Nobody here will ever speak of you and not mention that. You were a good man.

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4 thoughts on “Shapeless

  1. I’ve written a lot in the past week, but none of it does justice to what I wish to say. It feels disrespectful to carry on blogging without acknowledging the event, but it seems like it would be even more so to publish that grief without giving it due care. If I’m to post something, I want it to be worthy of the man we’ve lost.

    You’ve done that. This is beautiful.


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