Monday, October 12, 2009

The Bridge

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy ~Marcel van Duijneveldt

Their hems collect the diamond dew
Their eyes reflect moonlight
Their toenails red tread the tired trail
Their footprints collect the silver seeping

Combing grass and looking glass
Dark shapes lift the bodies from the night
Customarily bled to leave no mark upon us
Save council crocodile weeping

When falling did they become
Open mouths the voice of constellations
Gyroscoping above their hair halos
Disarrayed by terminal velocity?

Nobody dreamed this firth of amber water
Where swirling sun submerging hisses
A hundred years of human sweat
To sever strangers’ kisses


This is written for the two lassies who jumped off the Erskine Bridge last week.
I had considered linking to some of the news stories but the hackneyed phrases, finger pointing and self serving insensitivity of it all leaves me unable to justify giving them credibility.
Georgia Rowe and Neve Lafferty deserved more than the ignorance offered up to them by the system.

12 comments:

Yodood said...

Bridges seem the appropriate place to perform one's last forbidden act in crossing into lands beyond the hands that want to handle.

::She Poet:: said...

I had to look up the news article. A sad tale of two young lives. Your poetry is a very beautiful tribute. When I read of tragedy such as this, I wonder what were they thinking while holding hands descending into the water. Was there peace, a sense of resignation and acceptance? What happened in their lives for them to accept such a fate? Perhaps one will never truly know. I pray they are still holding hands, free of pain in the afterlife...

Nevine said...

Your decision not to link the news stories was wise. It's a sad story, and you have done these ladies justice where others have done abominable misjudgment. That was dark, but beautiful!

Pisces Iscariot said...

Yodood: true

She Poet: they must have felt utterly hopeless.

Nevine: thanks for your vote of confidence

Jimmy Bastard said...

Pisces, I cross the Erskine bridge twice a day. I still see the both of them standing beyond the rail.

Tragic... a waste of two young lives.

staceyjwarner said...

my stomach turned as I read your poem...well done.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Jimmy: I've crossed the Eskine bridge a few times myself but never has it taken on such a dark significance

Stacy: oops! hope that didn't make too much of a mess on the carpet.

Harnett-Hargrove said...

A hundred years of human sweat
To sever strangers’ kisses...
the human condition never ceases to amaze and sadden me. -J

Harlequin said...

a powerful tribute and sensitively done.

it reminded me of Gyatira Spivak's work --and especially her haunting question: can the subaltern speak? only when they die...

Pisces Iscariot said...

Jayne: I'm with you on that one

Harlequin: I have not heard of Gyatira Spivak, I shall have to look her up :]

Pisces Iscariot said...

Harlequin: I managed to get halfway through Gyatira Spivak's "Can The Subaltern Speak?" before giving up - I get the gist of what she is saying but cannot see the relevance of her overblown language - I found many of her convoluted sentences absolutely meaningless (even after looking up words like epistemic)
My overall impression is that her language serves to exclude the subaltern.

Harlequin said...

Pisces--- I agree with you on all counts .... she is quite inaccessible, indeed even unintelligible.... but, here 's a confession , in one of my lives, I have to read this stuff .... so while I cannot justify the density of Spivak, I can testify to her impact... but, as you say, the people who might benefit the most will never get the chance to find out, and that is a crime of power.
I 'm glad to see that more democratic and accessible formats--like blogging-- do spread the net much further... thanks for your thoughts and insights; much appreciated.