Trust Poem by Ashley Akari

I.

Stumbling naked and alone,
To the bank of the oily river

The waters of Hell
Lap loud and low….

Loud and low.

The world is silent here
But for the echoes that
Make mockery of your
Secret words; your acts
In hidden places.

They thunder in your ears.

II.

This is the sound of
Fear itself—the preacher
Ranting on the street,
The insistent knock,
A funeral dirge, so
Loud and low….

Loud and low.

The searching wind
Blows away the last
Tatters of life’s illusions.

With trembling hands
You examine the crack
In your spectacles, the
Log rotting in your eye.

III.

This is the last terror,
The final oblivion,
The quiet sinking into
Nothing—

Quiet but for the distant
Clamour of the mighty
Angels’ weeping

And the muted cries of
The tortured heart that
Sees a pit of fire in
Death’s dark, earthy bed.

Here we wrangle with
Angels and demons—
The comfortable lies, the
Looming Truth, larger
And truer than life.

IV.

This flickering moment
Is the terrible match held
To the hideous truth—

The hopelessness of life.

Unless this river should
Be our Ganges, the true
Water of our Baptism

We are lost.

The Love we crucified
Is our final hope,
The last candle in
This thick’ning night….

But should this Light
Turn will-o’-the-wisp,
Should not Nirvana
Dull a broken hope?

A bird falling from the
First, dizzy height must
Crush its wings or fly—

So we must trust
That in our drowning,
We shall take our
First, sweet breath.