IF I DID

IF I DID

I wonder what they would say if I did;

Those who have formed low opinions,

Or, those who have misunderstood past

Intentions because it suits their own,

If I end? I won’t have been the first one

To ask, as everyone reasserts their position,

Or, questions too, their own value

When cast in the absence of a familiar

Touch, or prized friend. I still have many,

Thank God, even if placed across distance.

Including two good as brothers, and the talent

I’d hope to make more. And I have had sisters,

Too, and would again, if presented. But in

The loneliness sent to stain us, such families

Shadow, or shuffle, and wait to propose

Themselves, beyond doors,

which have yet

To fully open in fear, if not through occasion.

For while a false form has been granted,

The still troubling air sketches cloud, which

Either colours or clears the hues we knew

That defined us. An amorphousness

Morphing as fast as it subverts the line

That draws crowds. So, to subtract myself

From such sums would leave no mark at all

On the whiteboard. The computer screen

Would not flicker, if the digit I am disappeared.

Nor the chalk, or, blackboard sending their own

Mysteries into spirit, through either lost dust,

Or, darkness at once dissipating all that came

And could not be, or was feared. So, I consider

The love I won’t make, or the lack of love

That may claim me. I think of those who sustain

Me, and the aforementioned few who won’t see

What I was, who I am, or, where it is I will travel,

From the sedentary stance of my doorstep,

To the skies of suspicion that at the current

Time fail the free. Of course, I still hunger for life,

As I do for the forgotten foods of my childhood,

The tastes on which I depended but which

In the passage of time never last. Recent events

Stalled each sense and left my tongue darkly coated,

And so, as I sit sucking death over, as I would a sweet,

Its tang taunts. For now I must find the new thing

For my rising saliva to savour; a further thrill,

A fresh flavour for which the consuming call

Must contain. Not for a lifetime perhaps, or,

Even a month, if I’m honest, but just for the day’s

Slow survival and the menu and means to ease pain.

We solitary diners need that, as we raise our glass

To each shadow. Not that you can catch a shadow,

But in a clasp to catch calm, we trace light,

Which we swirl like swilled wine, still moving

The glass, having tasted, praising the past as eyes

Moisten and the mouth continues to define

What feels right. Which surely isn’t the now.

And so, we seek a romance with the future,

Dreaming its soft shape and comfort as a positive

Path to pursue, and forestall what feels wrong,

For with every tear cast you still receive the same

River. Be it the Styx or Lethe’s waters, I keep them

At bay. And for you. Those who have not

Understood. If we meet again, be apprised:

We swim the same stream. How poetic.

And as in Stevie Smith, I am drowning,

But waving on still through stained blue.

I am facing my end and that is why I continue.

Come hell or high water. Wild water, too.

That sea’s you.

David Erdos June 28th 2020

For more poems from David Erdos visit The Corona Diaries collection 

David Erdos is an actor, writer, director with over 300 professional credits. He is a published poet, playwright, essayist and illustrator. He has lectured on all disciplines in theatre and film for leading performing arts colleges, schools and universities around the world. His books include EASY VERSES FOR DIFFICULT TIMES, THE SCAR ON THE CLOUD, OIL ON SILVER, NEWS FROM MARS, CHANGING PLACES WITH LIGHT (penniless press) and BYZANTIUM with the photographer Max Reeves. He is a contributing editor for The International Times and maker of documentaries all over the world. David’s work has been acclaimed by many leading figures including Harold Pinter, Heathcote Williams, Alan Moore, Andrew Kotting, Chris Petit and Iain Sinclair in whose recent book THE LAST LONDON, David features. He can be reached at David.erdos@sky.com.

David Erdos

©    David Erdos has asserted his moral rights as author of his work and has full copyright.