Alone in a World of Screams
I visited your house again before I left
It was not unlike any other house
It was just the same as always
Neat and clean and attractive and quite vacant
Nobody was there, not even you
It was like that every time I went
So why should I expect anything else?
The light made fascinating patterns
In the uninhabited space
And motes danced
And I remembered hearing
That the universe was just a mote in God's eye
I have been evaluated, and made evaluations
And I have had reservations, for all men make them
So I left for work
Quietly closing the door
That echoed on an empty dream
When I arrived over there
In that exotic arena
What a strange place with strange ways
I saw more houses like yours
Not the same, but similar
Arranged differently, but reminiscent
So I looked for you there too
On the pagoda roofs
In the bamboo thickets
Under the stolid rocks
And in the chuckling streams
I thought you might be hiding
Way up in the clouds
Or around the next corner
Or behind the next tree
Playing a game of hide and seek
In plain view
Standing beside me
Like the legends of the sage
Squatting over your work
Showing respect
Offering a cup of tea with both hands
And accepting respect
I poked through odd piles of debris
And peeked into crevices
I pondered prayer wheels
And peered into spirit houses
I clambered up trees
And slithered through tunnels
I studied fish in a rice paddy
And examined stars shining in a well
I surveyed polished brass for images
And I scrutinized shell fragments for insights
I walked through the valley of shadows
And all I ever found was daunting evil
Evil so frightening that I lost my way
Evil so frightening that it drove me away
Out of myself, or into myself
Deeper or farther
Greater or smaller
Who can say?
There were little plaster saints
For all the good they could do
There were little plastic men
Doing what anyone else told them to do
There were liars and cheats and thieves and cowards
And there was the enemy too
There were men trying to be like beasts
And there were men trying to be like gods
And in this wretched world of screams
You were not there
And I could swear that you were not anywhere
Not anywhere at all
I glimpsed the inside of the magician's sleeve
Hoping for an answer to suffering
And stood in the mouth of the cat
Hoping to find my home
But all the cries sound the same
And all the blood smells the same
All the tears taste the same
And the puzzle parts of the dead look just the same
An indifferent and impersonal nature
Never noticing the heart of the sparrow
Never rejoicing in the call of the sparrow
Never marking the fall of the sparrow
Too careless to personalize each bullet
Too mindless to note the effect of each stray
As if fate had any play
While conquest and slaughter captivates the strong
Famine and plague shall exhaust the weak
Leaving only the ripple of echoes in the ashes
A nonsense pattern that's imbued with cosmic truth
I would light incense
But amidst all the other burning
Would you notice?
Would you care?
I am paused on this pinnacle
It is not where I meant to go
It's not where I intended to arrive
But from the bottom, all heights are majestic
And all grandeur is alluring
Others, cloud draped and looming, stand nearby
But I cannot step from summit to summit
From peak to peak
I am a mere man
Weak and vulnerable and defective
I, like every petty man, would be pathetic
If I were not so savage
But even rock is subject to erosion
And ice will suddenly fracture
And I stand here
Poised like a sentry
Battered into exhausted perplexity
Scanning for traces of where I've been
Knowing I've done what I must
Knowing I've done my best
But still not understanding why
When I began my quest
Like all young idealists
I sought meaning
To give reason and purpose to life's chaos
For I would witness
The best of heroic experiences
And the worst of absolute imperatives
And like a carnival of peculiarities
There were shills and barkers for every persuasion
Trying to addict converts to the one true faith
Of patriotism or adventurism or boosterism
Where people had to be saved or redeemed
Or washed in the blood of something-or-other
Because they would be better dead than red!
So tradition and continuity were substituted
And meaning became just another word
Like love or faith or trust or
hope
And could be traded whenever something better came
along
Like promotion or praise or a pension
Because I cannot see anything ahead
With nowhere to go, and no way to stay
I look back over my past
Rucksack at my feet
Rifle propped in reach
Not unlike any other warrior made ancient on campaign
Searching for the remnants of pride
Hoping to recognize some wounded virtue
Like a lost coin plucked from the muck
Hoping honor might be ransomed
By burnishing with memories
So I gaze upon the point of our beginning
And I see where some were left behind
Where others were carried away
Where some passed me by
And others broke away
And right there, my dear friend was killed
And over there, I was horribly torn
And if you can follow the trail of tears
It just keeps shrinking
Until I am all alone
Stumbling and mumbling my poor way through fatigue
Utterly and completely bereft
And weary beyond measure
I am so tired
So very very tired
So tired of being alone and afraid
So tired of being forsaken
So tired of being forlorn
Of being like the beasts of the field
Without a home
Made warm by brotherly compassion
And furnished with the souls of scholar warriors
So damn desperately tired
And you were never home
When the world was full of screams
by Viktor von Bruderkin
... who is a former Marine, a war veteran, an amateur poet and
thespian, whose work has appeared previously in this magazine.
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