Monday April 18th, 2016

The exercise:

Write about something that is: blinding.

Exhausted. Going to sleep now. Good night.

Mine:

This is not how I imagined it would be. I expected an unending, all-consuming darkness in every direction. I thought it would be cold. Lonely and terrifying and sad. An echoing emptiness.

But this. This is not any of that. This is a searing brightness. Pure white surrounds me. As though I were lost in furious blizzard in the middle of a vast wilderness.

Except I am not cold.

And this quiet is not natural. It is reverberating.

And I am not at all alone.

Though, to be fair, everyone around me is not on my side. At least I can still feel the heavy solidness of the guns in my hands. And I know there is no potential of friends or loved ones being hurt.

So, despite the aftereffects of the flash bang, I begin shooting.

3 Comments:

morganna said...

Bereft
Lonely
In despair
Never feeling better
Desperate to understand
I cannot see how my
Need for alcohol
Got to be my whole life.

(cross-file under wino)

Greg said...

@Morganna: Your post-poem comment made me smile after a tough day :) You already know I like your acrostics and this is no exception. The middle couplet is particularly stand-out for me in this poem.

@Marc: Your punchline surprised me, it definitely wasn't what I was expecting. I think I was expecting something about a snowfield to be honest, but I like where yours went, and I like that there's almost a sense of optimism there... but not quite.

Blinding
When Medusa turned people to stone she was lucky. She was spared the wailing, the rending of clothes and the gnashing of teeth. She didn't have people tearing their hair out and beating their breasts with their fists. And she definitely didn't have to listen to them beg for a reversal, beg for forgiveness, beg for one last moment of sight to ease their regrets. As if I wanted to send them blind – that's just my curse for my hubris. The Gods are cruel in jest, and while I don't believe I deserved this fate, I at least understand what caused it.
And so I left my home, my village and the places I had known for thirty years, and I came to dwell here, above the forest and below the snowline. It's a harder life, and a lonely one, but the noises I hear now are the birds singing and the rabbits lolloping away, and the occasional bear growling. I hide then, of course.
And, because it seems I am doomed to not be left alone, the all-too-frequent scream and splatter of another blinded fool walking off the cliff-edge in their grief.

Marc said...

Morganna - excellent. Both the acrostic and the take on the prompt. Bravo!

Greg - ah, well, I'm always pleased when I manage to surprise you with my writing :)

Ouch. You've actually managed to make me feel envious of Medusa here. That's some impressive work!