Upon
Hearing the News of Mr. Williams’ Death
Monday, August 11, 2014, 4:20pm
He
cut himself today,
just
to watch himself bleed.
With
each drop of crimson
splashing
across the unspoiled tile,
he
imagines a raging demon meeting
an
untimely death, smashing headlong
against
the pristine porcelain.
One
by one he subdues his oppressors,
silencing
them for yet another
day,
their power drained
with
each meticulous droplet
spreading
across the pure stone.
Counting
to twenty, he wipes
a
rag across the inviolable ceramic,
pain
cleansed away, no camouflage,
just
flawless absorption, white cotton
defeating
dark demons.
Another
slice, a new count,
twenty
more down, cloth soaked,
but
never to capacity, for however
many
are released, just as many
are
standing at the ready.
The
reins are tightened
before
euphoria reigns, that elusive
place
between pain and release.
Precision
is key, never too deep;
privacy
crucial, always hidden away.
The
rag of ritual
dries
hard as stone,
getting
tossed out with
the
evening trash, disposed of
completely,
no reminder, no pain...
but
in the very last moment
before
closing the lid, he offers
a little
prayer over the loss of life,
for
the raging perdition throughout
is
no less essential than the story within.
He
cut himself today,
just
to watch his story bleed.
Reflections
on the Ice Bucket Challenge of Summer 2014
Friday, August 22nd 11:57am
Streaming
aquatic,
the
very essence of life,
striking
the pavement,
rushing
downhill,
no
roots to nourish,
no
life to sustain,
mere
waste and
dissipation,
sucked
dry
by
the sun
before
reaching
the
end of the street.
Yet
another video gone
viral,
one more group of
individuals
dumping buckets
of
cold water over their heads,
the
baptized pavement
beneath
their feet
heated
to broiling by the
ever-present
California sun.
Awareness
is heightened
and many are grateful;
give
to the cause,
an
answer within reach.
But
for those who can do so
without
wasting resources,
the
power is great,
the
joy supreme.
With
a tall glass of water
held
firmly in my hand,
the
life-giving liquid
defying
the summer heat,
I
shut off my computer
and
walk outside, stand
in
the shade and gaze
at
my impoverished lawn.
Ordered
by the city to turn
off
my sprinklers, my once-
fertile
land is now nothing
more
than barren waste.
Half
the water I hold
in
my hand is used to
nurture
a lone geranium,
while
the remainder is
relegated
to nourish
a sole
tomato plant.
Enduring
by design,
amazingly
resilient,
both
provide
beauty
and harvest
from
nothing more than
a
few ounces of water per day.
Many
years from now,
when
looking back on
this
time, I won’t likely
remember
who started
The Challenge,
nor
will I recall
the
amount
that
was raised.
The
memory retained
will
be the view
from
my window,
two
more tomatoes
now
ripe on the vine,
surviving
the drought,
providing
my lunch
this
warm August day.
Brief Bio:
Cristine A. Gruber has had work featured in numerous magazines, including: North
American Review, Writer’s Digest, Dead Snakes, The Endicott Review, The
Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, Miller’s Pond, The Penwood
Review, Poem, Thema, The Tule Review, and Westward Quarterly. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, was released by Infinity Publishing and is available from Amazon.com.
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