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Canto Del Morto

Inspired by the 1st Canto of Dante's Inferno

By John CoxPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 3 min read
I long for death, like a wraith wandering Aimless in a darkened wood...

In the center of life's vain struggle - I

Awoke - as if from a dream, the joy and

Essence of youth wholly lost and gone.

.

Crouching in the dim confines of winter's

Weary shadow, thoughts of spring fade away -

Soiled by the cruel echo of failures past.

.

Weakened by exhaustion and despair, no

Memory can revive the vibrancy

And emotions of a now distant prime.

.

Former dreams mock the divide between who

I thought I was and who I am, corrupting

Each decision of my lingering life;

.

My sins visited on the innocent,

My guilt passing in perpetuity;

These legacies will outlive memory.

.

Hope's bright radiance, which once trickled fair

Through twisted passes, holds little promise -

Hostage to lies shielding a stony heart.

.

I long for death, like a wraith wandering

Aimless in a darkened wood, the pathway

To rest lost in an endless, tangled maze.

.

Youth's fleeting sweetness fades to frozen white,

My feeble flesh - a wheezing emptiness -

Whispers in solemn silence, this is death.

.

How terrifying to imagine my

Being surrendered to non - flesh slowly

Drained of breath, humanity and purpose.

.

How concrete and urgent death becomes when

You think, rather than feel, each joyless day

Steeped in empty and worthless ritual.

.

A favored few defy the odds, somehow

Finding wisdom and understanding where

I failed to discern the pathway to truth.

.

They, unlike me, will die content, passing

Virtue before vice to fortunate heirs -

Choosing service to others before self.

.

They find meaning in life that selfishness

Has long denied me. I am alone, and

Without counsel, faced by trackless wasteland -

.

Asking one question again and again:

Why is it so hard to choose well? Frozen

At life's final crossroad, I cannot choose -

.

Choice forsaken to despair descending

Quietly - like December snow - the pathway

To lasting happiness lost forever.

.

Turning fearfully rearward, I follow

My heart - suddenly bounding brightly like

A leopard across the dark forest floor -

.

Leaping memory to memorial,

Chasing the elusive moment in time

When hope was lost, banished forever.

.

But at each crucial juncture I find only

A younger and still tortured self, living

Outside life's proper boundary markers -

.

Merely looking on, frightened, passive, as

Events and life spun out of my control.

Weighed down by shame, I recoil in horror -

.

Let me remember no more! The forlorn

Images flicker on and hinder me so,

Pushing me further and further backward -

.

Retreating into the shadowy past.

My life era upon epoch unwinds:

Children now departing home one by one -

.

Old Glory - solemn folding, the last day

I wore a soldier's green, our youngest child

Marching serenely and then the elder -

.

Pomp and Circumstance echoing dimly,

Abandoning home for war - my children

Outgrowing their awkward adolescence;

.

Hypnotic memory moves from youth to

Toddler, moving rearward from post to post -

Crossing and re-crossing the wide blue sea.

.

But at each remembered station, feelings

Absent, numb and constipated, my mind

Was preoccupied by concern for self;

.

I see what I had seen at all points past;

A stranger untouched by lives lived 'round him,

A man of regrets - knowing only loss.

.

There a dark betrayal appears, facing

Me down, like a fierce lion in the path,

The crooked choices of my life exposed -

.

Littered by failure and timidity,

Sown with the bane of empty promise.

Here my reminiscence finally halts -

.

Moving neither forward nor rearwards, but

Frozen helplessly between unhappy

Remembrances and destructive desire.

.

The pang of primeval lust revives - the

Ancient cause of many men's enslaving -

Her alabaster glory reappears.

.

My flesh stirs with old longing, like a wolf

Gaunt and famished, dreadfully craving still

to slake my thirst at her altar -

.

I won't repent all consequence be damned!

Mental Healthsad poetry

About the Creator

John Cox

Where would you like to travel? Who would you like to meet? No ticket required, a surprise at every destination guaranteed. Strap on your time travel goggles and bring a compass. It's sometimes bumpy in my imagination, so hold on tight!

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    Written by John Cox