Two Poems from Mark McConville

Can She Show Strength?

She wishes colours would surround her

She wishes they would blend in and create a whirlwind

To paint her body, to cover the scars, the bruises,

And the war wounds.

 

All she sees is grey skies and pills

To numb her whimsical ways

She feels nothing, she’s empty,

And disillusioned by a world weighed down

By strong men with ties and wicked hearts.

 

At one moment she thought she was saved

By angels through the phone

They told her to live and cherish the days

All she could do was release her rage.

 

She hung up on them

Stricken by fear and a torrent of negative thoughts

She can’t think smoothly or logically

Death is sharpening its tools to capture

Her.

 

Can she begin to open the rest of her mind?

Can she show strength?

These desperate times are magnanimous.

 

She’s on the road outside of her apartment block

Counting every crack, every weed, every piece of broken glass,

To find meaning amongst the decay.

 

The cars go by swiftly

Beams of light interlock with the darkness

To create a stubborn clash

She walking towards the glint

She welcomes it and wants it to soak

Into her pores.

 

And in this moment

She feels alive and all those

Sharp memories that have haunted her

Have faded for now.

 

This Is Courage.

She mends her dress for doomsday

Rage burns inside of her eyes

She strides through the small hours

Dancing in the dark

And drinking wine for the estranged.

 

She has no sympathy for the devils

Of the night

She plays a symphony for the rebels

Who fight onslaughts bigger than them

This is courage.

 

She powders her face for war

Inside this catacomb she calls home

Underneath the darkened streets

It isn’t paradise

It’s a place that holds fundamentals and mirrors

Which crave to tell tales through wrinkled faces.

Mark McConville