Night

In 9th or 10th grade, I read the book Night by Elie Wiesel. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. It's about Wiesel's experience surviving the concentration camps. His story really touched me and I wrote this poem:

I used to think the night was short
back when sleep
overcame me the
moment
my head hit the cottoncloudlike pillow
back when dreams were
accompanied by sunshine sonatas
with visions of chocolate palaces and marshmallow beds
The hours flowed by unnoticed like a soft
stream in the woods until
all of a sudden
it would be
morning

but

now i know better
now i know how long the
night really is
now i know that each
hour is composed of sixty miserable minutes
which are formed by sixty
excruciating seconds
and in each second an eternity elapses
my nights are spent
sleepless
in this
hell
where mercy graces no one
where death lingers like fog in the city
where there is
no God
in every eternalsecond
i’m reminded that my days are numbered
that at any moment they
could choose me
as the next number to
die
but what i fear the most
is not death or
laborious days with no food
no what makes me shiver with trepidation in every bit of my being
is
surviving

First Poem Post!

This one is being published :)

Wache

It’s only when we talk that I realize
how much I’ve hidden from myself

How much I’ve stored away in the
do-NOT-remember-or-else file in the
CAUTION-may-cause-burns cabinet in the
avoid-at-ALL-costs room in the
cobwebcorners of my mind

and yet
despite all the warnings
all the screams from the audience
(NO! don’t go in there!!)

I venture to that corner
enter that room
unlock the cabinet
and scour the file
all at the sound of your voice
and I’m plunged into
blissful nostalgia
for that tentwenty minutes (or however long you have)
and then

“okay, well I should go”
“oh, yeah, me too”
“have a good week”
“yeah, you too”
“k, bye”
“bye”

CRASH!
downpour
instantaneous JOLT back to reality
you are there (yes NEW YORK, I freaking get it)
I am here
we are not together
that’s that
it must be

quick!
QUICK!
pass the hot potato
jump the lava
put it all back!
someone’s coming
no one’s coming
they’re here
I’m alone

shit

slam the cabinet
lock the door
throw away the key (I should never have come back)
flee the scene
and forget
Forget!
FORGET!
go numb
(it takes a few days to cool the burns of those hot memories)

and then it happens
I stop thinking about you
I put on that sunny disposition until even I’m fooled
and here is my life
I am happy

but there is always that ache in my chest
(and by now I can’t remember what it could be from)
(what’s got into me?! I’m a sap!)
as if instead of breaking, shattering my heart
that blow simply set off
a little explosion of emotion that expanded my heart
so now
I see the dying, suffering people of history
the grieving son of present
the execution of an innocent and FICTITIOUS man
and it’s all I can do to
keep composure
to not stop this body
sit it down
and cry
grieve
for loses I’ve never felt
for people I’ve never met
for souls who never lived

my sympathetic and empathetic abilities
have reached superhuman proportions
and I don’t know
what to do
with them