About Me

"There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities, it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us, waiting in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future, or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born in pain." -Babylon 5

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

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Dear Peeps,

Ok...this poem was an assignment for creative writing to get into the mind of a person different from yourself. The teacher told me to do it about a male, 22, who is a father out of wedlock...o and...he's also Eastern European. I think this poem kind of shows God's love for us...in a strange and abstract way....:)

God Bless
elscribe


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I sit on the couch
Watching the crib anxiously in the corner
The baby is for now silent
I can rest for a few moments at least

Thoughts turn back to when this all started
I can’t even remember everything that happened
It all fades in and out of my mind like an agile sea monster
When I left Moscow for college in Volgograd

That was the first time I had met her
That was before things had become out of control
We never realized it would have come to this
It was just a matter of time
We thought we were in love
Our impulses took over
Before we knew it

She was pregnant
She went through with it though
That was when my anxiety started

Fear of what I would do to support them
Circulated around in my head
Then he came into this world
A helpless bundle of drool and excrement
Grinning from a toothless milk hole

That was when she left
She said that she couldn’t cope
He was not her son
She left him with me

Now I sit here
In my empty apartment in downtown Volgograd
The television blares in the corner of my eye
Breaking news flashes on the screen
Images of a gym filled with children
A black-robed terrorist holds a gun
Bombs hooked around a school

The casualty count rises
Chechnya’s resistance movement is still alive
The TV’s sound blasts

A cry rises from the crib in the corner of the room
I cross over and look into the bed and its occupant
Picking up the infant
I look into his youthful blue eyes

I worry for the world he will be growing up in
Tumultuous rebellions and wars
He’ll need guidance and people guarding him

He’ll be safe…
I’ll make sure of that
His мать may have abandoned him
But I’m still here

His little pudgy hand grips mine
I cry for the little dead bodies on a distant gym floor
Their parents cry for them now
My сын will not go that way

He will be protected
I won’t let the villains in this world get to him
I’m his father…
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