Saturday, May 23, 2015

The Awakener

The Awakener

I know well by now the method -
sleep deprivation;

artificial, perpetual daylight,
strapped to a chair, the frigid water,

the slapping of cheeks, prodding of ribs,
shouting my name every time I close my eyes,

the soft darkness given only as a whisper,
a distant, calculated promise

I may, when the time comes, dread,
light being preferable to utter blindness

and preferable to deafness -
the inexorable grilling,

the demanding of answers I never knew
or my pummeled mind has forsaken

in the dim reaches of the past,
the darkness out of which I have emerged.

Wanting the information, the information, the information -
demanding to know who sent me and just who I am.

O child of God, the ultimate infinite and eternal
requires more than soft gloves and sweetened tea.

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