Did you ever wonder about the shapes
Resting just beyond us?
The stark sketches of mountains
Our nightly puppet show,
But we never paid attention.
When the whistling began at night
You would pull the blanket –
Meanly denying the prying sound
Of the wind and its turmoil,
Which we thought we could escape.
I prayed to Icons
For time to slow,
But now we are at the end.
Life has tricked us
Like we never knew it would.
The gods looked down on us from those trees.
With entitlement, their branches pinched us.
You were entitled too,
So we turned
Letting our hatred be known
As the landscape looked on and laughed.
They were not mountains after all.
We allowed them this so we could understand them,
But to beg for understanding
Is to hurtle further
Into that ritual black hole
Where our sins lay obvious,
But we never pay attention.
Lisa Ardill is an Irish woman with a passion for human rights, feminism, literature, film, and neuroscience – roughly in that order! Her inspirations derive largely from authors who blur the lines between genres; Margaret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut and Sylvia Plath are among her favourites. Her poetry strives to capture the eternal and often difficult need to understand emotions and supposedly shared experiences, the inherent human struggle with self-worth, and our tenuous links with reality.
Her work has been featured on Poethead’s Index of Contemporary Female Poets, as well as Idler.ie and Bonnie’s Crew.
“dogs and angels are not very far apart” – Charles Bukowsk