In response to MLMM's Saturday Mix Today we were prompted to write a Somonka. The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas.
I close my eyes but the picture remains imprinted in my brain The sounds will not cease The cries ring in my ears and the terrors continue
I come to this place of peace to shut out the world and its ugliness The sadness loss and agony to which I bear witness
Suffering the atrocities of mankind they cannot heal So how can I? With survivor’s guilt I carry the anguish of their ruined lives Unable to save or protect them
Through the bottom of a glass the world is kinder, manageable For as long as the buzz lasts Slipping into an alcohol-soaked oblivion
Numbing the agony temporarily until a different pain wakens the dysfunctional corpse Hammering the head into familiar regret
Looking out my front door I see no new horizon No muse to inspire or cheering squad to lift my weary soul and reconfirm my existence
Just a familiar fog that will obscure the goodness I can no longer find without liquid courage and confuse those of us who see no point in anything anymore
You, the magnificent oak with arms outstretched Embracing me Holding me with your power and strength Always protecting me from those who would harm Yet this encompassing love is marginalizing and isolating Keeping me from those I love You left your splinters where I cannot remove them They lie there under skin Clearly visible yet irritating and inflaming Your mark left on me for all to see Slowly poisoning my bloodstream Until I am jaded and listless Sapped of my strength Taking this splintered love to the death
Exhausted from treading the uneven ground that is you I step back into black shadows Craving anonymity and peace Fatigued from sparring and exchanging elevated vocabulary Scratching and clawing at the remnants of our life An escape merely a detour Wishing for better fortune Avoiding more conflict Yet ultimately surrendering to the unseen enemy For love is a battlefield
Like a flower kept from the sun Or an animal trapped in a cage Her growth was stunted No longer remembering how she got to this place Her razor edge, now blunted
Isolated from those who cared most Living in the well of loneliness Slowly and surely marginalized Her passion for excitement lost Becoming redundant in life Existing but completely demoralized
