Into The Night

A Poem by Ancient My Enemy

For those who are lost.

Into the Night

I walk into the night.

I stumble down hills, through brush,

With loose footing,

With wet branches scraping my arms and face.

I slip, I fall, I grunt.

I smell the wet soil, the leaves,

I feel the teeth of the earth.

I smell my blood,

And pick the bark from my skin.

Panting, I stand.

In darkness, I scramble up hills.

Fingers digging into wet earth,

Feet slipping, twigs snapping,

Heart racing,

Silence but for my breath,

An impossible grade,

All muscles straining,

Somehow, I reach the top,

And the new moon shares my view.

More hills, more valleys,

More dark, dank, wet forest

For as far as our eyes can see.

I am terrified.

I cannot go on, but I must.

Because you would do the same.

I am weak, but alive.

I am hopeless, but willing.

I am sin, but I love.

I am lost, but I believe.

Walker Kornfeld

8/28/10

© 2015 Ancient My Enemy

Author's Note

Your thoughts are welcome. Thank you for your time.

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CryOutMercy

The word 'you' jumps out of this poem, in utter contradiction to all the rest, where this narrator is alone and desperate. Who is he talking to? The reader? Clearly not, because his decision to go on would not be impacted by the reader. I love the final stanza, juxtaposed against the last line. I do not know precisely what produces the desperation in this poem, and I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. He seems to be rushing - running away from something, is the sense I get, with his panting and his racing heart, and being terrified. Yet in the very first line, he tells us, "I walk." Why?

Posted 12 Years Ago

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12 Years Ago

Thank you, CryOutMercy, for your precious time.
I walk because there's no point in hurrying. I.. read moreThank you, CryOutMercy, for your precious time.
I walk because there's no point in hurrying. I know what's over this hill. The poem is a snapshot of the many hills of the past and the many yet to come, something I think we can all relate to. But my snapshot is colored through the lense of the lack of understanding. The desperation stems from the cruel, tenacious belief that maybe, just maybe, this will be the hill that changes everything. Folly. The hills can't change. But my view of them can. But my view of them won't if I don't change myself. But, yet again, I perceive this as another empty promise, the same as the first. It is an illusion, and I'll be damned if I'm tricked again. Also, I wanted the reader to really feel this process, so I wanted to make it as physical and visceral and organic as possible. I'm not proud of much of my writing, but 'I feel the teeth of the earth' always makes me smile.
The "'you' that jumps out of this poem" comment is intriguing, indeed. I see what you mean about the reader dilemma, but I think it has purpose. It is the day-to-day minutia that often brings about the worst in me. I don't understand its purpose. I don't understand how I can't conquer its simplicity when, to me, those around me do so with ease. Or at least, much easier than I. So, it's a bow to those who can handle everything as a matter of course, as opposed to me, some sort of damaged mistake that can't be bothered to adopt a purpose in life.
But despite all of it, and especially despite my above beliefs, there is one belief that I had to end the poem on, otherwise it would have been rendered worthless, and without it personally, I would be rendered worthless - I am lost, but I believe.
I am lost. Almost completely. And I may be for my whole life, no matter my greatest effort or sacrifice. But I have faith. I don't know in what, I don't know for how long, I have no knowledge of its worth. But this vague idea has been all that has sustained me, from a very young age. It is all that keeps me climbing hills in the dark.