The Only Things Real

local_library The Only Things Real

by Tatyana Yelshina

Published in Issue No. 224 ~ January, 2016

I wake up to the wind playing catch with the blinds,

And dismiss daunting visions as tricks of the mind,

And the nightmares fade, taken into the past

On the wings of the horses that gallop so fast

That I barely hear them, barely see…

A new day’s almost here, blankly staring at me.

 

I am worn by the dead who appeared while I slept –

They would quietly sit at the bedside and wait

As I lay there, questioning paths I have walked,

And the strangers I loved, and the tales that I told,

While remaining so blind to the only things real…

Faceless horsemen, how much do I hate what I feel!

 

I will stroll through this day longing twilight’s approach.

When the night comes to power, I’ll sit on the porch

Of this house called “Home” with a glass of dry red

And then stumble upstairs to fall down on the bed

Where I mourn all the people that I outlived

And the promises given, but never fulfilled.

 

Let the body be fed to the worms, to the grass.

Let the winds whisper over the flesh which is dust.

Let the soul find its peace where no feelings remain,

And no memories live to deliver the pain.

Faceless horsemen, to you in the darkness I pray

Not to sooth and forgive, but to take me away.