Pillar of Salt / The DamnedRascal2017-09-17T19:28:44+00:00
Pillar of Salt
Why should we mourn for yesterday? I marvel not in times gone by that you, gods, were deified. Remnants of things that have passed away— fragments of stone reared by creatures of clay. Deep and sacred longings Far beyond the region where sun and stars belong In the deep dark night which drowns the light of eyes.
Nature, the cradle of all and grave of all, Some awful powers have been placed Within the waste of silence. Midnight holds its breath And the wind was fast asleep. We sometimes hear that flesh and bone By magic art were turned to stone. Dreams are the devil’s own angels on earth
Powers, let me not useless die I trust in many things: in blood, in fire. Let darkness lead me on wherever I roam. Your very own empty hands shall miss The things they’ve learned. When sin’s dark doctrine fell on weary men You said, “Burn, saint, burn.”
As tricky as wisdom The truth crushed to earth shall rise again. For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. The past gathers itself quickly like debris, And time eddies around it.
 Tomas Guddmundsson  Bernard Barton  Lord Byron  Stefan Fra Hvitadal  Stefan Fra Hvitadal  Adalsteinn Kristmundsson  Johnnes Kotlum  Jakob Thorarensen  Jon Magnusson  Gudmundur Bondvarsson  Johannes Jorgensen  Sophus Claussen  Gustaf Munch Petersen  Inger Hagerup  Inger Hagerup  Edle Nielsen  Nils Collett Vogt  Gunnar Ekelop  Craig Morgan Teicher  WM Cullen Bryant  WM Cullen Bryant  Craig Morgan Teicher
I have learned one thing: Not to look down so much upon the damned. At all times, I see them. Their bodies are divided among the dust, Their bodies belong to silence. Never shall I forget those moments Which murdered my God and my soul. But I am still here and I know why, and why the air feels heavy.
From the ashes, hear our plea, We are born with a knife in our hearts. We are blue marble forms lying, not breathing, not dying. We envied plants and stones. We envied dogs. No one molds us again out of earth and clay, No one conjures our dust. A nothing we were, are, shall remain.
Perhaps we will walk together, my brother, on the road of human dignity. Until then, you will bite the sidewalks like bread. This is plenty. This is more than enough.
 Geoffrey Hill  Janos Pillinszky  Janos Pillinszky  Elie Wiesel  Misklos Radnoti  Barbara Sonek  Hayim Gouri  Avron Sutzkeven  Jadeusz Rozewicz  Paul Celan  Paul Celan  Ben Ruby  Abraham Sutzkever  Geoffrey Hill
Nina Wilson has a BA in History and Writing from Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She has published photography, essays, poetry, and fiction in The Pearl, Coe Review, The Fishfood Magazine, Adelaide Magazine and for Camp Fire Heart of Iowa. In the realm of poetry, she is mainly interested in writing found or cento poetry. She loves the ability to piece together lines and phrases from other works to make something new, while doing her best to understand the context and meaning of the original poets’ words. When it comes to fiction, she loves to explore illness and how it affects people and their families.