Saladin
Dear Saladin.
I am not young anymore.
I am not your revolution spirit.
Not the thrust of your steel.
Nor the burning of your star.
I receive your letters still.
Words are undimmed.
A grave red-handed battle
Is what you propose.
A sorcery that makes the spite
To which we are drawn.
Dear Saladin.
We spread across the seas.
In pairs that are waves.
I am your eyes if you wish it.
I am your tongue if you want it.
A promise of poverty
And a vibration like peace,
These songs are from you.
Pulled from one heart.
Culled from one battle.
The demise of people is
Where you dwell, and forever will.
Dear Saladin.
I curl under the subject of stars.
They are matter and heat.
But you said they are eyes
Looking upon me with grace.
I am raging faulty flame
Quenched again when I burn.
I am that cry like your scream
But this is just a whimper.
I am that flame flying mad
That hurtles into the ocean.
Dear Saladin.
Let me cut your heart
In three pieces for the gods,
The Subtle, the Damned, the Trembler.
I am at their feet, chewing bones
Of you my savior once and again.
But the gods cry in the heat of your end
And I on the ground, search for stars
The ones where you were born
The ones you came from and brought down
To heat the words that are gone now.
oh my God. This is incredible. So many powerful images, I can’t pick one that works better than the others. Well done.
Thanks Susan. I dunno what I was going for, still trying to figure out the poetry side.
if this is you not knowing where you are going–please get lost more often. Seriously. This is EFFING GREAT.
You’re totally killing me.
It’s very interesting in a good way. I’d like to read Salidin’s letters to Richard as well. Talking in persona is probably my favorite genre in poetry. It’s the thing that make Spoon River Anthology great and you have so much more freedom if they are dead. Best KB
who is this saladin?
the poem is fabulous!
Just some made up guy in my head. Nothing related to the Saladin of history.
ok 🙂