Genesis of a Poem
I wrote the poem (below) when I was young. I think I was about 16 or 17, but I’m not positive now. I had been looking in the thesaurus for synonyms for the word “death” for something I was writing, and I came across the phrase “payment of a debt which cancels all others.” I knew I had to use it. It didn’t fit with the paper I was working on, though.
Then, somehow, this poem popped into my head. I swear it was like it was almost already completely written. I scribbled it down quickly, and made just a few tweaks after.
Originally, the word “medicine” was “aspirin.” Now that I’m 66 years old, I realize that even a whole aspirin bottle probably would not kill someone. At least not before causing significant pain. And so I decided to change it.
Also, I used to call the poem “Alone.” But when putting it up here, I wanted to highlight the line that spurred its creation
Anyway, other than those two changes, here’s the poem as I originally wrote it all those years ago.
Oh, by the way, at the time, I had never really had a girlfriend.
Testimony to the Payment of a Debt
As I sit gazing out the window,
The stars slip silently past.
And the edge of the moon,
Sticks out from behind the mountains,
On an ever-increasing downward plunge…
This is the beginning of an empty day.
Last night I sat here,
Thinking of all the times,
You and I once shared;
Wondering over and over,
What it was that came between us,
When all along I knew it was me.
Looking up now into the birth of the sky,
The mountains begin to glow,
And the sun peels off its blankets;
Melting the black coverlet of space,
Leaving me naked and alone,
To face a day without you.
“I want her back in my life!”
My mouth forms the words,
But the sounds are absorbed,
By a vast and uncaring world.
“I want her back!” I cry;
Yet no one hears, save me.
And now the unbidden rays of sunlight,
Invade the once Stygian darkness of the room,
Illuminating the medicine bottle on the table;
The vacuousness of which,
Is testimony to the payment…
Of a debt which cancels all others.
© 1998-2024 Rick Horowitz All Rights Reserved WorldwideThis story is copyrighted! Enjoy, but do not steal my work!
