Chains of Ennui
By Muhammad James O’Neil
Chains of ennui, binding
A collapsed curled-up child, shackling
His form to the blackened mud, weighing
Some seven hundred sorrows on his soul.
Tragic. Pitiful. Harrowing. Mundane.
The untold story of a generation, hiding
Behind invisible cells and bars, blending
Between the space between you and I, veiling
A voice lacking a mouth by which to scream.
Silencing. Sobering. Stilling. Shaking.
The void expands, all-encompassing, surrounding
Man, woman, and child with apathy, Choking
Away what makes us alive, tearing
Out our spines with a lazy yawn.
Terrifying. Inescapable. Demonic. Unseen.
What to do, what to do?
A lantern shines above the abyss, falling
Upon us hollow hollow husks, glimmering
Beyond the reach of our atrophied arms, beckoning
Us to something greater, something beautiful, something sublime.
Ineffable. Unspeakable. Unknowable. Incredible.
A muffled voice from above, murmuring
About something transcendent, calling
Into the darkness and despond, reminding
The lost that we are our own vicious wardens.
Faint. Unheard. Unheeded. Unbelievable.
This vacuous realm unhinges us, eroding
Away all that we cherish and love, sliding
Us slowly into the slough of despond, yet increasing
Our desire to swim towards the ever-present glow.
Suffocating. Corroding. Wearing. Crumbling.
We can take no more. We can take no more.
A few swim slowly upwards, yearning
To feel the light’s warming kiss, yet lagging
Behind as the emptiness pulls them back in, gnawing
Upon the soles of their tired feet.
Painful. Onerous. Backbreaking. Severe.
Fewer still reach the light, escaping
From the den of distraction and despair, leaving
Behind the invisible prisons of sin, stepping
Forth unto a virgin soil, so glorious and new.
Liberating. Redeeming. Purifying. Love.
Many are left behind, noticing
The absence of their former companions, ignoring
The final destination of the departed, sitting
Alone in their self-built restraints.
Pointless. Pathetic. Unfortunate. True.
If they but knew… if they but knew.
Muhammad James O’Neil is an American-born convert to Islam of four years with an intense fondness for poetry, literature, and a decent cup of tea. He is a certified social studies teacher in the United States, though he currently resides in England after chasing his heart across the Atlantic Ocean and marrying a Brit. In his spare time, he enjoys composing poetry and the occasional short story, as well as reading the works of far more talented writers.