A Puppet Dancing in the Dark Has Many Lies To Tell

800px-CharnelHouseI saw you walking through the charnel house,
harvesting the bleached and disarticulated bones
of our ancestors to make our rote Sunday soup
Nights, you hung lifeless prayer from rotting teeth

At dawn you regurgitated the remains and our
foremothers spoke sadly of disease and diaspora
I wept to know how they suffered for their fantasies
We are left spineless and bloodless by our history

Crowned with the prickly thorns of your illusions,
you were greatly given to infusions of wine and bread
and daily rosaries traded for the remission of sins,
the very ones you would indulge again …

Now I know these bargains are Faustian and that
a puppet dancing in the dark has many lies to tell

©2014, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photo – a Greek charnel house – by Tom Oats under CC BY SA 3.0

what remains as testimony

IMG_6885what remains as testimony are the
iceberg’s tip, the crisp of an autumn leaf
an ebbing tide, a few fading records, packed
waiting for the day, opened in repository
and sniffed at by the curious, seen as quaint
by those who weren’t there, who didn’t know
with what courage and sinuous grace we moved
through our trials, our victories, our passions
until we lost ourselves walking along the
roof’s edge, our eyes on another realm
we didn’t look back, only put out our hands
to shake yours as you passed us on your way

© 2015, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved