Temporal Measures by Erika Witt

saving Time? profound!

we can save ourselves

if we constrain the second hand before it turns to despotic minutes

and minutes to animus hours

“tick.

tick.”

beating against

but a pinky finger

Time repressed, yet the thin needle will not cease

it pulses with the perseverance

of waves called back from the shore.

so, we bend back the metal hands,

let the face of the clock be empty

make the gears agonize,

and weep

until they speak:

“Time is fragile.”

the ticking will stop.

silence has ensued,

have we saved Time?

in this destruction,

we know not what we’ve gained

we know not what we’ve lost.

looking out the window,

looking in the mirror;

the clock was a futile device.

we will fill our ears with cotton, and shield our eyes

deprived of senses,

only then

are we guarded against Time.

we think we’ve won,

destroyed the tyrant!

all is ours.

but we can’t ignore the vertigo

it echoes in our heads,

despite our darkness

despite our quiet.

“tock.

tock.”

it says, and we know

repress Time: we can

suppress Time: we can’t

even when we become the monarch of our minutes,

we are waiting for our waterloo.

some things cannot be saved.

there exists no antonym for Time

the closest word we have is:

end.

#literature #poetry