VOYEUR.

in cathedrals shaped like 

living rooms ;

i shall be her victim

and you shall be my witness.

with every play

of script familiar,

your burning eyes find

my looping destruction. 

and maybe it was

the bath within

my vale of tears

that cleansed your interest

or maybe it was

your illusion of safety

in nets of silence

adjacent to disruption.

but you watched the civil war

between right and wrong.

a chance to be hero,

a choice to be heathen.

there are no more excuses.

no hatchet to bury here,

on this holy ground

of my endless inquisition. 

watch me crumble

and watch me fall,

and

bury my pieces 

in your apathy.

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

Good evening Emunah, one of the great things about some forms of poetry is that what the reader brings to the work can be as important as what the author put into the work. Perhaps that is the case here. Reading this poem I found myself returning to my childhood home, visiting my endlessly critical mother, with my spouse/partner witness to the proceedings. MSB

[FlatDaddy]

My dear friend, I could not see the place, or time, or people who populate this piece; what I DID see, and feel, is an intense sadness, and forlorn feelings of hopelessness and pain.
Well written, Emmy, but I do not like this one. It is a peek into a darkness I do not want to see.

[Dennis Wolf]

Clarity is down in stanzas 1 and 2. It's a good read though.

Longing for someone else to make a fragment whole... It's a universal flaw of our kind I suppose, but it's also kind of pretty, depending on from where you look at it. Nicely written

[Vol]

Emunah,
Every stanza is beautifully constructed, and your word choices are perfect... What I'd love to know is, who is "she?" I could make a case for her to be Gaza with references to 10/07, but that's probably stretching it?
Vol