NEW POEM: Quod Non Dicitur

S P Clark brings you a poem that he has been working on for some time, Quod Non Dicitur. This poem looks at some of the effects caused by things being left unsaid.

Quod Non Dicitur

S P Clark

Amor Prohibitus

Gazing across the room and feeling a pounding in my chest, a lump in my throat and sweat on my palm – love, the feeling that I spent years standing on the borders of, the periphery of bliss; the boundaries, the walls always seemed to scream at me not to come close to the rapture that dwelt just beyond my reach – and if I ever felt brave enough to place one tentative foot (one giant leap for the bi-boy hiding inside me) over the line, beyond the wire, then I felt ten thousand eyes staring at me, boring a hole into my core so that I had to run and take cover before they threw their darts and forked-tongues in my direction. 

So I stood in the corner looking at him, but could never smile, never get near and definitely couldn’t hold his hand.

Love was the land that I dared not visit. 

Mens Aegra

A silent sadness that fills the mind; a blanket, shroud or cloud of pain that infiltrates the spirit and blocks out the sun pouring through the cupolas, the windows, the eyes – blinding me to the beauty that once I could see. 

An overwhelming darkness of thought; a foxing, splatter or smatter of anguish that pervades the soul and blinds me from viewing the wonder through the belvedere, the panorama – my eyes sightless to the joy that once I beheld.

A deep depression rooted itself; anchored, bound and wound its hurt around my happiness and strangled the light from seeping through the tower, the turret, the eyes – purblind to the future that I once could envision.    

Me Ipsum Laedere

Denial of my true self marched me headlong into a fiery pit, an abyss of unmatched devastation and confusion where every exit only lured me to another place of self-flagellation, a new home for causing contusions on my skin.  Each bruise was a marker of where things went wrong.  Each mark was a map of where I didn’t belong.  Each bump and lump was a sign of weakness, of how I couldn’t be strong.

When the strength died, faded away like the bruises that left behind only the scars and cuts they once valiantly hid, all that was left were the empty bottles of pills and potions; drink and drugs and devotion to self-destruction, a reduction of self worth and a reproduction of the path I’d taken before.  

Melius Est Aperire

No longer can things be left unsaid when they cause such devastation, such sadness, such harm, such pain inside ones head.  

I want to write quod dicitur instead.

© S P Clark

TRANSLATIONS (Latin – English)

Quod Non Dicitur – That Which is Not Spoken

Amor Prohibitus – Forbidden Love

Mens Aegra – A Troubled Mind

Me Ipsum Laedere – To Harm Myself

Melius Est Aperire – It Is Better To Be Open