Sunday, February 27, 2011

happy birthday

six rows of five soldiers
march with torches in hand.

at twenty-one you were given a key to the door.
you locked it behind you.

at thirty all the doors burn down

the ghosts attack
and the skeletons dance.

sar 2011


  1. Assuming that this poem and your last post are related, I think your image of the doors burning down at 30 is apt. I've come to see that the stuff we carry with us often hijacks us later in life rather than earlier. People can be doing ok in their 20s but life gets harder rather than easier & then the damage of our early lives can make itself felt much more. Or the burden of carrying all that damage can just become too much when these things have been carried for years and it becomes obvious that there will be no relief. My heart goes out to your friends.

  2. I can see that the poem reflects on an awful situation, but can I say?!? It is very good and one of the best of your poems which I have read so far - nice control.


  3. Hi Jo and AC. Glad you got it. Always wonder if my images are too obscure.

    If 30 is the beginning of the crisis, when have you observed the end to be? It would be nice to think there was an end point, but I've never noticed one. 45?

  4. My own observation is that the mid 30s are particularly difficult for women from a background of that nature. Speaking from experience.


  5. love it. Very insightful. Chillingly insightful, in fact.

  6. This is a beautiful poem and very sad, as it should be. Have you heard Liz Frencham's "Stronger the Tree"?