TRENCH
Trench
My trench is more deep than it is wide
In it, I’ve hid from battles, so I wouldn’t die
So I was surprised, quiet, when he came inside
Since when were you on my side?
Since then, I’ve dug me a deep depression
Into which I hide with only one preoccupation:
“He would dive into anything, without hesitation”
Does this make you shallow or deep like ocean?
When he dove in, we were oblivious to the surfaces
Upon my back is a long scar, and I did not see his chest’s.
These bodies naked, on top and entrenched
Scars leave deep grooves, stories, resentment.
Trenches are the result of long-running rivers
Or erosion left behind by disappearing glaciers
Like you: your ‘let-it-flow’ left scars here and here
Like me: did my glacier-reaction mark you, dear?
My doll, the “war” that was between You and I
Was mostly against my own rules that I let fly that night
It’s about you taking what I hold dear, and prize
That I turn away from this all, and resign…
… because it’s one thing to war and pillage the other side
But kind of odd, don’t you think, to rape from your kind?
But that was the problem, deep and profound
I am not a part of your London town Underground
Nor would I ever now choose or want
to be a fast, furious ‘One of Us’.
So I may look weak, with a mess and debris
flying from the places I grow my wings
And I may turn away from friends and outings
That’s my built-in deep depression, which protects me.
Yet, trenches protect, fortify castles
Provide irrigation channels in agriculture
Give access to structures that help things pass
Protect power sources during natural disasters.
Trenches help in our defense
And to defend and safeguard, we build trenches.
Scars uncover buried matter
And bursting matter makes scars…
that save us.
© Sylvie Hill 2014
Art: dixon / Trench / 36x78cm / spray paint and synthetic enamel on cavas / 2010