Ohm

Claims of achieved greatness,

of being a remarkable man

have been drowned

once and for all

all possible events were now

sunsets seen from rooftops

dousing the plain with fire

prime location to witness the end of the world

you put an end to us

you left me on the pavement

unwarned, unprepared

with nothing on but what I wore

you were a swarm of locusts

and hail like fucking cannonballs

a great tinnitus that wouldn't stop

a roaring gale felling trees

and you didn't care

you had to move forward

– leave corpses if need be –

it was a beast of a year

and you almost killed me,

I have to say,

first with love

then with hate

– oh, how much more potent hate is –

that great force you used

like a typhoon's

could hardly be resisted

turning soil into mud

levelling houses and minds

you were a freaking natural disaster

and quite oblivious of the magnitude

of the earthquake which you were about to raise

I stood there in the palm of your hands

and suddenly your hands

were in a fist packing a snowball

with locked jaws and a frowned brow

It's going to take a while to recover,

you know,

like learning how to walk again

(yes, I know what it feels like

it makes you wince

and cringe

and sometimes cry)

but I'm breathing

against all odds I should say

and, like you, moving forward

not as easily as you strut and parade now

looking great and feisty even

it's the slow march of a dead man

on his way back into the light

but one thing you made me realise,

haggard and panting and uncomprehending,

with fantasies of death dancing before my eyes,

is that I was happy and you weren't

– you couldn't and will never be –

so you went ballistic

and laid waste where our house stood

where our family might have existed

and be ruined much, much later,

because of you.

but claims of near-satisfaction

and of happiness

will be made once more

even if on an atoll somewhere

lost on a mountain range

on a squall-battered beach

daydreaming in front of a blank page

in a bloody bookshop I don't care

because to walk is to be happy

because I'll be happy again

I shall leave, then,

and not glance back

steadfast and fierce

in my exile

in my silence

cunning and subtle

scheming

perhaps dying alone, yes

but my spirit able

my voice untethered

unnormed

whole

like a tremor swelling from the ground up to the chest