Renaissance: Poetry
- Isa Wajid
- Nov 10, 2021
- 2 min read
10/11/2021
Silent obsessions made aloud,
Noted only by the interrogative flicker of a momentary stare.
Indeed, a moment is all that’s required.
The impress of hatred,
Burning deeply into your curvature.
And so I wonder deeply,
Wholly befuddled,
Unjustifiably virulent,
And Utterly bewildered
At this cloth of flesh.
If only they knew our secrets.
Silent obsessions made aloud,
Noted only by the interrogative flicker of a momentary stare.
Indeed, a moment is all that’s required.
I remain afar,
Pervasive in observance
Consuming passively,
These delicately wrapped skins,
Statured of statues.
Curiously piercing through each splotch
Of perfectly sewn flesh,
Caressing carelessly over the renaissance
That brush every ounce of their forms.
Unfulfilled swivels,
Fleeting grasps entirely unsatisfied,
How do I become you?
Silent obsessions made aloud,
Noted only by the interrogative flicker of a momentary stare.
Indeed, a moment is all that’s required.
Michelangelo or Bernini, perhaps?
I inquire once more, unspoken.
Every arch a story and every curve a tear,
They protest.
The heaviness of my broken tongue,
Subduing this restless thought.
Wrung around my throat,
Words laden with desperation,
Struggling,
Begging,
Dying to be uttered.
But Alas, these barbs of consciousness
Have silenced me once more.
A single swallow spoke by a shutter
And I digest this poison once more,
“Wouldn’t we all be God’s?”
Silent obsessions made aloud,
Noted only by the interrogative flicker of a momentary stare.
Indeed, a moment is all that’s required.
The impress of hatred,
Burning deeply into your curvature.
And so I wonder deeply,
Wholly befuddled,
Unjustifiably virulent,
And Utterly bewildered
At this cloth of flesh.
Dreary,
Bleak and dull.
I cannot abandon you,
I exist within you,
But I do not accept you,
Nor will I ever accept you.
Upon every midnight draft,
When you grow dim
And your lids grow heavy,
I dance between the dark
And find my fairytale.
Unzipping you,
Crawling out of you,
Unlacing your seams,
And momentarily–
I escape you.
And until dawn is birthed,
I no longer resent you.
Isa Ul-Hassan
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