Editor’s note: This is part three of a five part poetry series from Provincetown.
“The Silent Chronicles”
Part III: Falling
Curled up in bed,
I watch his head fall to his pillow.
I look at the clock, 12:15 a.m.
Time for sleep.
I roll onto my side.
I adjust to my other side.
I try my back.
It will have to do.
My weight falls.
I’ve found my day’s final resting place.
I’m walking down Fifth Avenue.
It’s littered with faces.
No bodies, just faces.
Detached, dejected, misplaced.
My subconscious fills the space.
Faces have no names, names have no meaning.
Steel bars surround wooden stepping stones.
The ground shakes.
I feel my heart tremble.
Bright light racing my way.
Death hurdles toward me.
I jump, it passes.
I’m standing at the end of a long dock.
Gray sky, fog on water, nothingness ahead of me, desert behind me.
I see a sea of sand.
Everything is black or white.
Thunder rolls across the changeless scene.
Rain begins to pummel me.
I’m looking down out of the top window of the Empire State Building.
The specs below are dust collecting, insignificant.
Charcoal smoke penetrates the sky,
The buildings are ablaze.
The skyline begins to crumble.
I try to pull my head inside, but the window has shrunk, fear grapples my heart.
A raven bursts from my chest.
My eyes wide, I gasp.
I am awake.
(Continues tomorrow, June 30th, with Part IV: ‘Awake’)
Caleb Eigsti is an aspiring everything, everything that includes director, actor, playwright and poet that is. Eigsti graduated from the University of Nebraska at Omaha with his bachelors in Theatre, emphasis in Directing and Acting, and moved out to New York City.
He has made is New York acting debut this summer and is finishing writing his first play. He has also written content for The New Civil Rights Movement before and is glad to be back.
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