The people are raining in bits and blobs the rain is red bled tears and sobs the people are flying up through the sky arcing like rag dolls to heights very high the thunder is frightening the lightning is death the people are dying taking last breaths fleshy lumps are dropping back to their berth with fractured bones falling to rattle the earth the children are worst as their bodies burst with each new detonation another curse as the soldiers wade through the carnage they create claiming it’s orders no difference can they make instructions come from those sitting above but the executioners fit in with them hand in glove while mothers cry and fathers weep some bodies may heal but other scars run deep and the harm ensures an eye for an eye more and more people will rain from the sky
Melissa’s dVerse prompt for we poets today references the surrealism of Rene Magritte. I chose the painting Golconda (1953) of raining men to address the terrible wars around the globe and our repeated failure to learn the lessons of history.
I knew fear When the bully turned his attention to me When his sneer settled into a satisfied smirk Accompanied by a condescending glare Comprised of evil glints behind the blackest of eyes and a palpably hot internal furnace of anger
He knowingly appraised me He looked into my very soul He asked himself the unspoken questions only I should have known the answers to, but he determined in a instant What vulnerability lies here? What weakness can I exploit to the point of causing immediate pain and then terrible ongoing hurt?
Thus I became a victim I let him use my own low self esteem as the leverage necessary to do me harm To render me powerless to resist To enable me to damage myself even further To punish myself for allowing the damage to be done
I became complicit in my own degradation and misery
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