Friday, January 15, 2010


Pulled down to earth, beneath the ground
smashed to gravel,
are you walking, are you sinking?
Does your body draw away
from your dusty breath
to split this minute from forever?
Yet your skin is flowing red,
you see your life walk the edge,
as a villain seems to press
his hand against your mouth.
Try going back to live your hope,
calling out,
will I be alive?
Still the crimson flows.
You are grey without your soul.
Have you faith that you exist
when it seems as if you don't?
You learn quickly in this place
where a quake has pushed you down
to inhabit an abyss.
You've little time to decide
if you're dead or yet alive.
And now you'll try
to take a walk
through shattered stone.

@copyright/ all rights reserved


Unknown said...

Hi Lyn,

Powerful! Who knows what emotions and sensations one might experience in such a nightmare. You have written beautifully.

Lyn said...

Thank you so much, Derrick...An unimaginable experience..that I seemed to sink into...

The Weaver of Grass said...

Thank you for the thoughtful poem Lyn. Derrick directed me here and it was well worth it. The experience in Haiti is quite unimaginable - I always think that the earth moving and splitting must be the worst experience of all as you have absolutely not point of reference. Somebody in the Times today says he was not sure which was the ceiling and which was the floor when the earthquake struck.
Shall add you to my blog list. I already blog with Elizabeth (world examining works) and met her when I was in NY last May.

Lyn said...

Hi Weaver-
I'm so glad to meet seems as if more than a few bloggers have gotten together in NY..I recently received a visit from Jeane of Artit, and the day may come when we'll all get together..even Derrick!!
Yes, it is a world that changes in a split second..we must take nothing for granted..again, thanks for visiting.

A Cuban In London said...

A very heartfelt poem. I felt the intensity of it. Many thanks.

Greetings from London.

Lyn said...

Greetings to a Cuban-
Thank you... writing this, I felt as if I was hypnotized!
It feels endless...

Aleks said...

Dear Lyn,this is heart warm,compassionate and beautiful writing,it is actually more than that,and im so glad that I met you and your soul in this blog world,thank you and forgive me if I was too impulsive in my answer to you on my blog but Im confused about the way how things are evolving considering blogging life.This might be an eye opener for me about many people from blogs I followed and my part of responsibility to make this world a better place including how and what my blogs stand for. HVALA MNOGO means in my mother tongue THANK YOU A LOT!

Lyn said...

Hi ALeks-
That is the most touching comment ever. I do find it remarkable that people who are basically just typing at home are able to find like souls. We are activated magnets, right?
Hvala mnogo..I like that...what language is that?

Gwil W said...

Timely poem.

I have heard a report that there may be some Schadenfreud on the other side of the dotted line that divides Hispaniola. Somebody please tell me that it's not true.

I hope that when the people of Haiti have recovered from this ordeal they will quickly be given new opportunities, just as those infamous institutions which put the world economy in peril were quickly given new opportunities.

Haiti must have the chance to rebuild, replant, repair and reform; to climb off the bottom rung of the economic ladder.

Nations that made their fortunes off the back of the slave trade must now be 'encouraged' do more - to go that extra mile.

Lyn said...

Hi Poet...
Thank you for the comment and for visiting...warm regards to you.
Unfortunately Schadenfreud is always as prevelent as hunger. The guilty do not bear guilt within themselves.
I hope the spirit of the true survivor is ignited within the Haitian people. There will always be the arrogance of the "entitled" to deal with. What will be given to the Haitians must not be stolen again by the fox in the henhouse.

Owen said...

That's beautiful Lyn... I can't stop thinking that there are people still under the rubble of their homes, barely alive now, barely breathing, perhaps already hallucinating, their minds slipping into the dreamland before the light goes out forever.

Be well...

Salon Delucca said...

human tragedy without measure - your poem puts a face on a seemingly desperate situation xxo

Lyn said...

Hi Owen-
Thank you...Yes, I kept seeing the same thing as you..maybe we write to save ourselves...
Best regards...

Lyn said...

Hi Jeane-
As the days go by, it doesn't seem to get any you say, desperate..
Counting my blessings!

Aleks said...

Hi Lyn,you beautiful soul,my mother tongue is Serbocroat,as I am born in Yugoslavia,47 winters ago,and tonight is my birthday,cheers

Love and peace

Lyn said...

Hi ALeks-
Happy lovely..I hope you are dancing and singing, or whatever you wish..all the best to every language!!

Anonymous said...

Emotions unleashed as buildings crumble and life ebbs away. Your poem conjures up images and is evocative.

Lyn said...

Hi Sylvia-
Thank you...there but for the grace of God..right?


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