I can recall the moment with absolute clarity as if it happened yesterday. The contrasting scents of summer and death hung heavy in the air. After a brutal battle, August, my kinsman and brother-in-arms knelt over the fallen corpse of his adversary. Soft whispers fell from his lips, accompanying the almost serene expression playing upon his features. He was praying, speaking words of veneration over the bloody remains of a villain.

"What are you doing?" I dared to ask, momentarily breaking August's concentration. To this day, I have never forgotten his response.

"Our enemies...." The reply began, his tone of voice showing none of the bloodlust present only moments prior. "....are sacred. For it is they who make us stronger."

The tree whose roots never break, yet whose leafs continue to fall right off.

The sailor with the full sea ahead of them, yet I choose to stay in one spot.

The impossible in a world of possibilities, just waiting to be found

The beauty with a beast ripping away at my insides.

The calm and the storm,

The sunrise and the sunset,

I am everything, yet nothing at all.

She died without knowing that I love her.

Without laying, warm and soft, on my chest.

No singing softly as she begins to stir.

Nor suckling sweetly at my breast.

Never hearing my whispers of affection.

No tender kisses on sweet creamy skin.

Broken promises of a Mothers protection.

A life ended without a chance to begin.

She died without knowing that I love her.

Without losing myself in her eyes. 

No sleepless nights that are a blur.

No soothing hungry cries.

Two hundred and seventy days of hope.

In just a few moments, torn apart.

Left in agony, expected to cope,

With empty arms, and an empty heart.

When I was 11, my dad ran over four turkeys. One died. Two were maimed. One clucked off, unscathed.

Dad didn't look back. He just shrugged and smirked. There's never any traffic there. 

I saw the one, clucking down the shoulder. Later on I asked Dad what he thought of the one that didn't get hurt. 

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," he spit with a huckered unfurling of his mucus cavity. 

The next morning, really early because I couldn't sleep, I went out. 

Dad was gone. Working, I imagine.

Mama was sleeping. She stayed up late, I'm sure.

I kissed Amber on the forehead. She gets warm when she sleeps.  Been like that since we were little. 

Felt like I'd just kissed her when I was halfway through the woods. It's a good quarter-mile jog to the other end of 'em. But I move fast.

Specially when I got purpose. 

It opens up, like it do, and I looked out. You can see everything out there on mornings when the season is changing. Poop from chocolate milkshakes to tar icicles. 

And at this time of year, birds. Every kind of bird, we got them all. 

This is commuter season for nature's airplanes. 

I walk right up on 'em. It's gotta be the biggest swarm of turkeys between me and Canada. They hardly move. Shit-for-brains just sit there. 

So I move through 'em. Easily. Cause I got purpose.

I look for the one. May find him. I may not. 

I'll know those spots, though. In 7th grade I did a book report on turkeys. Different kinds. What that means in the way they live, where they like to stay, and so on. 

I prolly had a close eye on turkeys since I was 4. I 'member the first time I saw one slaughtered. For BLTs with white cheese. I can still hear that stupid son of a bitch popping in the Lodge cast-iron skillet my granddaddy flipped up  right away when he took it out his truck, and slapped it down on those metal grates.

I know turkeys. And I know how to watch for the one I want. 

He ain't here. Not today. 

I'll wait. It's what I do. 

This isn't passion. It's not excess.

They aren't victims. They aren't deserving. 

They're just the backup singers in my orchestra. I don't like acoustic guitars or MTV Unplugged. 

I like plump cheeks that explode like pierogies microwaved 30 seconds past their due. 

I sit and wait. Sometimes I do this because I'm asked to. Other times it's other reasons. 

Don't ask no questions. Nothing to see here. 

Yesterday I was witness to a circumstance which made me feel needed. I so rarely feel that way. 

It's lonely out here. But it's clean. And there's a hierarchy. It must be respected.

If things are allowed to get out of order, then we must restore it. 

Otherwise things forget to work. This was supposed to happen yesterday.  It didn't. It's okay. 

The important thing is to stay calm. 

Otherwise things get messy.

Move calmly and, if you drive to Milwaukee for work, carry a big stick for tinted windows and don't forget your pipe if you happen upon a fireside chat with an old friend. 

I love old friends almost as much as news ones. Of course, the way my job goes, I end up with more news friends than new ones. But that's okay.

Keeps the fire going. 

Friends are eager to swap recipes. Especially when it's something new. And if you cook, friends usually wanna try it. Specially if it's something you caught yourself. 

Like Brunswick stew with turkey that, you should be forward in warning your guests, has an assertive gamey-ness.

Almost medicinal. But organic.

People love organic products. Especially wild-caught and hormone-free. 

"Oh those? Those are meatballs," I tell 'em.

Bon appetite. 

And please: no tips.

I died today

As I watched you slowly fade away

And with fascinated horror

Could not avert my gaze

Live for me

You begged me silently

As your eyes connected with mine

But your plea was lost

Because within my mind a single

Unrelenting thought

Pushed out all the rest

“I’m so glad it isn’t me.”

I could never be the hero

Like you who

Gave your life to save my own

In that position

I could

I would

I did

Selfishly

Only think of me

But a coward dies a thousand deaths

They say

And only now that my path is set

Along that course

Can I truly understand

What those words mean

Today was just the first of many

And I will spend the remainder of the life

I held so dear

Dying all the rest

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads...

My heart ripped to ribbons, my soul torn to shreds...

With memories like landmines, with secrets that stain;

Nightdwellers are prone to turn pleasure to pain.

Pent up emotions become violent eruptions;

We reap what we sow, and I've sown my destruction.

Do you measure your worth based on someone's opinion?

Have you acted out thoughtlessly for someone's attention?

Is the child who adored you now full of suspicion?

Welcome to my world, we've been deemed Unforgiven.

The days that I find myself lost in the memories,

Become nights I spin reckless, too much restless energy.

I make the worst choices when the future seems bleak;

When the mirror taunts cruelly, when remorse leaves me weak.

I wanna feel good again, for tonight, for a moment.

Add to my list of sins needing atonement.

Have you suffered in silence to avoid confrontation?

Have you blown up your life giving in to temptation?

Was becoming his fall back plan your heart's ruination?

Was your redemption revoked while you sought sweet salvation?

Destination unknown, I am destined to wander...

Wasted again, like the potential squandered.

But what does it matter? It's my blood that's spilled.

What matters to me is that my empties get filled.

If I clear the bong, take it straight to the dome;

The empties will stop trying to burn down my home.

If I snort this line, or an 8ball or more;

Maybe they'll let me get off of the floor.

And if my empties get filled with a bottle of gin,

I'll savor the silence, till they start in again.

Blindly, running wildly, I'm ahead of the pain.

But I can't outrun that which flows through my veins.

The wind strokes my hair like a lover's caress;

Icy, cold fingers slip beneath my torn dress.

Afraid to look forward, afraid to look back...

I'm frozen in fear as I brace for attack.

I look up at the stars, at the moon seeking guidance;

The stars blink, the moon winks in hateful black silence.

Confirming a lesson I learned long ago;

I've got no one to save me, and nowhere to go.

If you've accepted more apologies than given permission...

If giving your heart inspires panicked apprehension...

If every choice hurts, when there's no good decision,

Well, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

How long can I run when I'm destined to fall?

Karma's a bitch, and she catches us all.

I give up, I concede, I collapse on the ground.

I'll take what I get without making a sound.

The Darkness overtakes me, and the next thing I know,

I wake up in a strange place that isn't my home.

Now I'm slinking away with my head hung in shame.

Full of self-loathing, but I have no one to blame.

Despite my best efforts, I'm still aware and alive.

Each day, my Day of Reckoning; my curse to survive.

There are only so many pieces of us

You have most of mine

Every day I love you more

And you cherish the pieces of my heart

While tossing your own to swine

I fear that soon

I'll run out of heart

And there will be nothing

For you to come home to

My love hasn't been

Enough

I thought it could save you

When you rushed into danger

And came back bleeding

I patched you

And then I bled

Rending open my chest

To give you more pieces of me

I weep not only because you hurt

But because I have not hurt enough

My road has been smooth

And yours a nightmare

Saturated in blood

The imbalance is offensive

I need to take your pain

But you will not give it to me

So I fall screaming onto love's sword

Tearing myself

Like a zealous self-flagellating penitent

I mortify my flesh

With a violent garment of love

Instead of sackcloth or horsehair

Torturing and scarring away the guilt

Of not having suffered as you do

When I have given you my last piece

When I have shed every drop of blood

Leaving only a cracked shell

Will I have loved you

Enough

Or will you still be blind

To your brilliant value

Will you still doubt

Your priceless worth

Despite your scars and broken edges

Will you still let beasts

Take you apart

Ignorant of the divine light in you

Until it is finally

Snuffed

And there is nothing left

Of either of us?

She died without knowing that I loved her.

On that day

there was no mid-night…

For who could sense

the halfway point?

I cried,

as the stars shined dark.

The Moon was full,

but eclipsed by mourning.

The Sun,

laid cloaked

behind the clouds,

too embarrassed

to lift its head out...

burning

false hope.

That night

Silence

filled the absence

of Time…

as the hours

played hooky

from their positions

on the clock.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Alan Salé

All Rights Reserved

contact: AASalehi@gmail.com

PoetryByAlan.com