a poem by Jule Heyen
History seems far away
Long lost in time, my enemy
‘Those days are over’, is what they say
Long lost in time and memory
So close, so far, almost my own
Free and bound and all alone
The heartbeat coursing through my chest
Stagnant, dormant, much too fast
It doesn’t seem to vanish
More and more and never less
Full of gold and jewels, so lavish
Yet a twisting, turning mess
The golden echo of troubled times
Who will pay for all their crimes?
The shadows dancing in my mind
Still feel like they’ve been left behind
Guilt inherited from my mother’s mother
Shaking, twisting, turning in my chest
Locked away with chains that smother
that untamed, unaired unrest
This is not my tragedy
A torrid tale, men’s apathy
Still I’m trapped here, pray, do tell
What does it take to leave this hell?
Because I feel its ghosts on me
Always pulling at my chains
Counting one and two and three
Now open up, see what remains
The rhythm never hurt my heart
Yet it’s always been a part
Of history’s clever coiling song
Why does it all just seem so wrong?
I don’t get to leave this grief
Behind me on my way alone
No break, no pardon, no reprieve
So much for which I must atone.