"ihs" poems
Take it to Glasnevin,
and write IHS on the stone.
That's what I'll be saying,
IHS with the voice in my mind.
After Michaelmas is gone,
IHS, pleadingly, a lamb of God,
and a little after, exaltingly,
from a rooftop garden in the city centre,
where I can plant flowers.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Optimal2
"Are you 'Doc'?"
His eyes scanned me.
He seemed curious, if anything.
"I am. How are you feeli-"
"Whe's my bat?"
It became clear he had no interest in others.
It also became excruciatingly clear that I, to him, was a higher being of some sort.
A person who was probably in charge.
"Your weapon has been confis-"
"Ih's not a weapon."
The interruption shocked me for a fraction of a second;
his eyes focused and angry, staring into me.
I was glad his bat was nowhere near him.
"I don't expect you to understand;
you are after all, just a child.
But people are dead. Their families are suffering.
People are suffering the consequences of your decision.
How does that make you fee-?"
"I hate you. I want my bat. Give me my bat."
The boy is angry. He is holding back, and I feel it in my bones.
I feel I should leave, but I never was one to trust my instincts.
I never felt I had any to begin with.
"Your weapon has been confisc-"
"IHS NOT A WEAPON! GIVE ME MY BAT!!
GIVE IT TO ME!! GIVE ME MY BAT!!!"
Okay. This is a tantrum. Should I call lieutenant?
I should be able to handle this. I was good enough to get this job, right?
I studied for this. I understand humans.
"GIVE ME MY BAT!! BAT!! GIVE IT TO MEE!!!"
He's kicking and barely in his chair anymore.
..Maybe a sedative would be necessary now?
No, he's not causing anyone harm though, right?
I mean I think so. And it's not like he-
"GIVE ME MY BAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!"
Okay.
Okay.
"MNAAAHHHHHHHH!!"
**** ****
I can't do this. I don't understand anyone. I have no emotions.
My opinions are derived from books I was told to study. I'm a miserable robot.
I can't do my job. I can't understand a simple child. Why do I even think this way?
**** **** **** ****
"Take a break, Doctor. We still have a few days 'till he can be set free."
The interruption distracted me from my misery.
I just stood there as two men took away the screaming child.
One of them looked at me with a disappointed twist of his neck, as if to say
'Damn doc, you ****** up.' "
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 2:50 PM UTC
I.
I see the basin
The river
The dirt and filth on All
Some look like raisin
they shiver
As their world would shrink so small
I see the Lamb
The Angel
The Hexagram or crossed poles
II.
My mother told me to wear red on that day
Though she wore yellow
My mother told me not to yell on that day
Oh, how she curtailed a fellow
My father wasn't to be seen that day
At that time he was scarce as a swallow
I think my father wore green that day
and so unlike my mother he could never wallow
III.
"Ark.."
Shiver
Sacred Candles
The voice coaxed up from the mountains
"Love...Thorn...Cup"
Purple Tasseled Majesty
IHS They say. Were the others?
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
you weren't doing well already. your skin was falling from your face in yellow-skinned sunken smiles and faint snores that used to roar as you napped. my tears were hidden behind my computer screen when i saw you lay down to rest. always scared it would turn worse.
and a year ago today, it did.
i was in biology and the boys in ihs when i got the text. i never expected it would be me. i never thought i would have the 'expected call' sort of life. it was the speed walk from biology that i remember. the people passing me who i had to ignore. the sob i tried to soften. the lump that made it impossible to smile or speak or recognize anything except for my siblings and the sun outside. of course it was sunny outside. of course nothing in this world led me to believe today could be a bad day.
and a year after that, it was the same.
i couldn't stop the tears from coming. back then i was emotional in different ways. the heart i never imagined to be broken i wore on my sleeve. the smile that dressed my face was sincere everytime i met eyes with a stranger. i was excited about things i didn't know, and my sadness was consistenly superficial. so the tears came quickly, easily, as if i was surprised by the news as i hid them behind our bronze suburban.
and a year ago today, i had been.
it was the uncertainty of the situation that had me breaking. it was the fact i had no knowledge of what was going to happen. it was the idea that the only moments we had had together had been paper thin hands holding mine and music that spoke to our souls at the twilight hour. i did not want to be there, as much as i felt i should. but the night time drive and frozen cookie dough calmed my tremoring hands.
and a year after that, they do the same.
a year ago today i lost some hope. i felt a dynamic shift in the way of our house. where eight o'clock pm the door would open with a flurry of excitement and dog nails scraping over our hardwood floors there was silence. a cold and sad emptiness to the home that had created the childish laughter stored in me.
and a year ago today, it is the same.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC