What is it about the night?
That makes us long so
For things the day did not give us
For hopes dashed, promises unfulfilled
What is it about the moon’s last shadow?
As it falls upon the eye for the last time
That makes us long
For things that lie beyond our grasp
As I lie in my bed
The stars blinking above
I reach out one last time
My fingers running swiftly from key to key
Forming the words before I can even think of them
Till there it lies before me
A message, a plea, a bid for redemption
In that moment a hundred thoughts fly through my head
Shall I send forth my creation?
Will it warrant reciprocated emotion?
Or will it bring only more pain?
And as I think I drift into slumber
Awaiting a response
That shall never come
Today’s NoPoWriMo challenge is to write a poem of erasure. A new work created from the dissected carcass of an earlier work. Instead of choosing to work through someone’s else’s words however, I chose to re-imagine a work an old work of my own. An old favorite.
What followed was almost a ghost of the work that came before it. An ethereal remnant of sorts. To me it produces the same imagery and emotions (to you it may seem like nonsense!).
If you’re interested in comparing it to the original, you can check it out here: Reach Out