Autophagia

I bear without forbearance or relish
all the unthinkable sins of my ancestors,
too numerous to count, name, or fathom –

my teeth are forever set on edge.

I slip from moment to moment unnoticed, invisible,
forever entombed in the space in-between,
and that all too regrettable senility of the forever young
in an old old city. –

I cherish nothing but the wilderness inside of me.

I reach out for a hope, any hope, out there,
no matter how evanescent or illusory,
and I wallow in the smoldering ashes of that elemental angst
flourishing inside of me
endlessly crashing against my chest –

my destiny, it seems, is to be forever ravished
by my own worst of fears,
and an undying longing for rest.

Damascus, April 26, 2004

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