My Dead Language

The Night Is My Horror

The night is my horror

It haunts my ever-waking moment

And my slumber is drenched in cold sweats

The things that live at night

Have both my sorrow and my admiration

The darkness somehow splits me in two

And everything I have ever been

And can hope to be

Showers its desperation onto me

At midnight, I am suddenly nothing

No more than shattered promises and broken dreams

I ran in so many directions

In so many ways

I shattered at my very seams

I never looked back

I never knew how

So the night is my enemy

It is more than just dark

It is empty

By Jennifer Barajas

My Dead Language

Hunters

Hunters 

Twice the world away 

Bombing, fighting – hating 

They are coming 

Hunting 

Half the world apart 

Pillaging, killing – destroying 

They are coming 

Hunted 

Not quite the world we thought 

Shattering, ruining – ending 

They are here 

Jennifer Barajas

My Dead Language

We Must Look Back

We must look back  

In sadness and in anger 

The loss was immense 

Too much for one planet to hold 

The grief is palpable 

We must look back 

In reverence and humility 

At how easily we were brought down 

And let’s face it 

We were brought to our knees 

We must look back 

In tears and frustration 

Because so many sacrificed 

And so many did nothing 

Split – like the 2 roads so famously reached 

The past cannot be breached 

We must look forward 

Even if the lost are leading the damaged 

Together, we must find a way  

Only singularity can lead us astray 

We must make the end begin again 

Only then can we recoup what was lost 

Only the can we find the means to mend 

My Dead Language

We execute a broken man

We execute a broken man

When we should execute a broken system

Instead we fail him again and again

As a child – no protection

As a man – no forgiveness


Compassion is not for the flawed

I want to breakdown

I want to let it all go

I want to give it all up to sorrow and despair

But then I am just like them

No better, blooming in unfair

This fight, is not for the weak

Of heart or conviction


It’s a fight, fight, fight

And I’ve got to be brave, brave, brave


It is only for those that can forgive above all and everything

For all of us but also for themselves

We may bleed and we may crumble

But we can never waver and seldom doubt

That we are all more than our worst mistake

That only humans make monsters

And that evil is mostly man made


It’s a fight, fight, fight

And we’ve got to be brave, brave, brave



More than anything, understanding that our fates are tied

That one life could make us whole

Even if we don’t understand

The why or the how

We are all worthwhile

And there is a human part that survives-

That is always worth saving


By Jennifer Barajas

My Dead Language

Our Life Force Glows

Our life force glows like a neon sign

Vibrating and pulsating

It reflects more that our expiring good will

It represents a moment in time

When all we have is wants

And care nothing of needs

Breaking down community

Ripping it at the seams

You reap what you sow

We are changelings

The faces of people that once thrived

That once knew empathy

Now, only the richest survive

One for one and one above all

No matter how weak

Who gives a damn how small

Our life force flickers

And is snuffed out in the fall

By Jennifer Barajas

My Dead Language

I believed in you

I believed in you, with you, and through you.

Fearless but free

Knowing all

Knowing nothing & all

I knew them true & tall

Not in the way I thought

Maybe not the way you do

Above the fold

But below the fall

Songs whispered

Stories untold

Time left sightless and lonely

Days sold for nights

Bereft of cold and unfeeling

I know mountains

I’ve sought peaks

It’s not the glory

It’s not the triumph I seek

It’s the journey

The adventure worth telling,

The life worth remembering.

Jennifer Barajas

My Dead Language

Life Trading

Life trading

Why bother waiting

I give it thoughtlessly

For just a minute of your time

To explain this disguise of mine

Pulled over my face

It was only ever a likeness

I died long ago

Never known, simply unidentified

I wouldn’t have it any other way

He couldn’t endure it, what else is left to say

Except maybe I couldn’t abide his endurance

So I took the knowing right out of his hands

So I am just a liar

Unable to keep up with this life’s demands

So I am a coward

Narrow and known to be selfish

I am every awful, disloyal tendency humanity ever undertook

And that’s really how I know

I can promise you a life

So broken, so full of holes

So If I can just have that time to explain, if you just listen

You’ll accept my rendition

This life is all yours

Stretching further and farther from my fate

That issued from my very core.

-Jennifer Barajas 

My Dead Language

I see you

I see you

Smoldering in the ashes

In pieces long past coming together

Secrets will be told

Defiantly, a life unfolds

I follow you as darkness takes hold

The path you chose

The words you promised

Do not lead me into light

They only curl into shadows

So, I carried you through the night

Then we hit the bend in the road

Will I ever get past a future

Too afraid to be born

I live on

I move on unworn

Somewhere I have never known

Somewhere I will never be

In dubious watch

On a never-ending sea

My Dead Language

I have lost you

I have lost you so suddenly

I need to catch my breath

For a moment, you were all.

There was never a dull moment,

In that strength I called love.

There was always a way in

You made your own way out.

The smallest thread could pull me apart

And I am unraveling in your arms.

Little but you.

Softly but you.

But you, but you.

So here I go,

Only a few steps astray,

From the love I’ve lost

And the life you gave away.

JBW

I wrote this poem at least 20 years ago. Of course, it has been edited and re worked several times. But the bones and the message are still there. The same as they were 20 years ago. I think when you write about something when it is still so fresh and vulnerable, you can still feel it resonate years and years later. I feel a little broken hearted every time I read it. To me, that’s what makes a good poem.