Laced fingers
soft sweet and soothing.
Smooth lips
subtle mind whispering:
“Return to me
my dear.
Run with me
run with fear.”
Oh eye of mind
this mind of mine
that pantomimes
what I left behind!
I left them there
to be forgotten.
You bring them here
to remind the rotten.
Release me and leave
why torture me so?
I hate what I see
more than you know.
I hate without end
the dark silhouettes
whose lips I once opened
to give their first breath.
Their minds are mine
or a piece from inside
that’s grown over time
and taken my mind.
Get away!
Take your hands off my shoulders!
But stay,
I may want when it’s colder
the touch of my dreams
mind’s solaced escape
to flee from the things
taking its place.
My demons, my angels
my knife and my pillow.
I hate you for now
I’ll love you tomorrow.
This eye of mine
is a mind full of eyes
searching inside
for the face of my mind.
I'm a few days early, but this week is kind of busy for me and this was the best time to post. So here it is.
This poem centers again around "our Pale Friend." The narrator begins quickly, addressing the fingers on his shoulders and the lips whispering in his ears. Initially, this may seem like he's the victim, haunted by shadowy demons or something. But, as we move into the third stanza, we start to see that he (or, his "eye of mind") had a part in making them. He's tried to leave them behind, but they're following closely, just behind his shoulders. There's a sense of guilt and hate (especially in the sixth stanza) that follows the narrative until the eighth stanza. The narrator denounces them, but then acknowledges that he might want them when it's colder. In the ninth stanza, we really get into what they are: "the touch of my dreams // mind's solaced escape // to flee from the things // taking its place." This is where another shift in the poem occurs. Now the narrator understands that what he's facing are the "dreams" or desperate solutions he's held onto to keep out the darkness. But it's not as simple as that either, as he states that they are "my demons, my angels // my knife and my pillow". This is a tie to the sort of "remedies" we sometimes go to when we suffer. In hindsight, I have observed that a lot of the things I used to get through difficult times helped in the moment (angels/pillow) but weren't necessarily good things (demons/knife). The difficulty comes when you no longer need them but they're still there. This brings us to the last stanza, where the narrator summarizes his "eye". He's lived with these "solutions" for so long that he isn't sure whether they are a part of the "face" of his mind or not. So he's left searching, trying to find out who he is once his problems are gone and his solutions are still clinging to him.
As a final note, the only true solution to any problem is Jesus, I've found that out the hard way. Our Pale Friend hasn't figured this out yet, but he and anyone else who's hurting still can.
I hope you have a blessed week!
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