Rebirth

The human experience has always intrigued, and formed the foundation stone of these monologues. In poetic form.

I create.

This is but another.

Salute.

Have you walked through hell to find your own piece of heaven?

Title:

Rebirth

(A lone voice whispers)

Consumed by times long reach

My old love now walks on a new beach

No more Greenwich Village walks

Trips downtown to Manhattan

No more listening to Van Morrison on a hot Sunday afternoon 

Drinking cold lemonade 

In the shade 

As passing yellow butterflies played 

Smiling in unison 

Watching the local ice cream van sound its arrival

With that particular catchy tune

Or reading Dostoevsky 

Page by page 

Aloud or creating poetry

Together

I guess 

Looking back with my rose-tinted glasses taken off 

It was like a prophecy in the Book of Revelations

To find heaven,

You must first face hell

Walk through the oncoming Apocalypse

Breathe in the final moments of despair 

See your once bright sunflower wither and float away 

To some sacrificial altar where they all go

Drawn by a dark power

Down some old black as death itself river

For like the Lotus flower 

We sometimes need to grow in the sludge 

To bloom

(C)

Copyright John Duffy