update from sparkleup

writing/poetry/triumph.md

@@ -0,0 +1,124 @@
+%title I wish I could see your triumph
+
+'''
+  *I wish I could see your triumph.*
+
+That's the thing about enemies, you see.
+There is a certain amount of love that
+has to go into that struggle.
+There is a certain amount of need and desire,
+because if there is no one there to vanquish,
+then what are we who strive even to do?
+
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+I wish I could look up at you,
+broken and shattered,
+bleeding in the dust of unknown plains, and know ---
+  truly, utterly know ---
+that I have been defeated,
+that I have been crushed and destroyed.
+
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+Is that self-sacrificing of me?
+I really don't know.
+It's not my place to know these things.
+
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+It's my goal to succeed, to prevail,
+to come out the other side,
+to make it through,
+  to win. 
+It's my goal to come away with my own triumph,
+but always, always there is that niggling little doubt,
+that secret desire to lose,
+to be beaten in a fair fight
+and have it proven to my face 
+that someone could bring me low and understand that
+   *hey, at least she tried, right?*
+
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+I wish I could see elation in your eyes.
+I wish I could see you laugh.
+I wish I could see just how it looks
+for you to set aside that way you devote every erg of energy
+  to struggle
+and give me one of those full on, deep-down belly laughs
+that I know we all hide somewhere in our bodies.
+
+I wish I could see your triumph,
+and I wish that, should you see mine,
+you understand just how much love goes into our struggle,
+just how much need and desire I hold for you.
+
+  *Do you laugh, sea foam? Do you smile, ice, and observe your triumph with an angel's remove?*
+
+Every now and then I catch a taste of Rilke,
+hidden around some corner of my mouth.
+Every now and then, I think,
+  *every angel is terrifying*,
+and then I'll go about my day,
+repeating that like a mantra:
+  *every angel is terrifying every angel is terrifying every angel is terrifying every angel...*
+
+He saw someone do that,
+I think I remember the story went.
+He was walking and saw someone face the sea,
+throw their arms wide,
+cry out to sea foam or ice or some unseen rank of angels,
+and...well, I don't remember if he heard them, necessarily,
+but that's how it went, right?
+    Who, though I cry, would hear me among the ranks of angels, 
+and then hundreds of lines later, ten elegies.
+
+So whenever I get that awkward-shaped piece of grit between my teeth --- 
+  *every angel is terrifying* ---
+I think of that scene. 
+I think of the way we elevate the unknown
+to some higher place that ourselves.
+I think of the patterns we hunt for in the sea foam,
+in the waves that can take us under
+or bash us senseless against some barnacled rock.
+I think about the crush of worlds implied in the calving of an iceberg
+and how easily that could destroy.
+I think about that rank of angels who,
+holding me to their breast,
+could so easily annihilate.
+
+Do they laugh, 
+  the sea foam,
+    the ice,
+      the angels?
+
+  *I write in fire across the sky, a plummet to match your rise.*
+
+So then, my angel,
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+
+I dream of it, that moment.
+I dream of falling to my knees,
+or being so badly broken that all I can do is lay there,
+  unmoored,
+and look up to the way you rise above me.
+
+I strive against angels as I strove against men,
+against the world, 
+against the cruel vagaries of my former self
+and all his countless failings.
+Some have left me reeling,
+some have left me on my knees,
+head bowed until it almost ---
+  almost! ---
+touches the ground,
+and I've had to spend a day,
+  a week,
+    a year 
+catching my breath.
+
+But never have I striven against you.
+Never have I striven against you, my angel,
+and there is sweetness in defeat.
+
+There is sweetness in defeat.
+
+I wish I could see your triumph.
+'''