Through The Picture Window

Rain,
Hardly falls today,
For all it should have been.
My neighbor plays some
Discordant tune upon her antiqued grand piano,
Striking the wrong note,
Here and there-
It was supposed to pour today, and
I can only cry when
I try to count my gratuities?
I peer through the picture window and
Watch the steel-hued clouds
Hover atop the
High-rise buildings across the landscape, affront
My home.
I begin to hum a tune about
Love and war, and
Feelings that I am now experiencing-
Tears begin to cascade down my cheeks,
Pallid and washed out,
I have been locked inside myself for so long.
I would run outside barefooted if
It were a warmer day,
Perhaps a day in late spring or early summer, and
I would pick daisies or wild violets-
But those days have seemingly just ended, and not yet to begin,
For a while,
So I suppose I must dry my tears, remain indoors and
Wait for the first snow to fall,
Enjoy that old lady’s piano playing next door, and
Be thankful I don’t have to concern myself with death just yet.
As I gaze through that picture window, and as
The sky darkens, I may think of how I have never really been in love, but
Should not weep for I have never had to go to war-
Although perhaps within myself-
And the sun will rise tomorrow again.
I count my blessings now, for tomorrow-
Some of these clouds should lift and disappear,
And I shall hum a more melodious tune, dry my tears,
And stop the rain?

Claudia Krizay



Another Poem

Visitor

He arrives, sometimes,
Capturing that moment between wakefulness and
My dream state-,
I could honestly define his visit as real,
As quickly as he comes and goes,
I fear that he shall harm me-
Threatening, swarthy, brawny, and
His eyes, filled with rage-
My life is not my own.
My screams as completely silent as they are,
Could be the most anguished and fright-filled
Ever evoked from me-
He has left me in a state of shock.
I stare at the ceiling, and
Watch the lattice-like patterns sway back and forth-
A reflection of the Venetian blinds by the light of the moon
Shining through, seemingly caving in upon me.
I force wakefulness, so that I may protect myself
From this creature, who appears not as a silhouette,
But vividly portraying his every feature-
Globular, piercing, bloodshot eyes,
Hands as large as the both of mine, and
Every furrow deeply aligning his forehead-
The one horrific entity of my own small world-
If I were to step outward I know I would encounter many of his kind,
As well as noisy highways, smoke stacks emanating from.
Low rise buildings, polluted air, and other aspects of city life-
People visiting other people,
Stepping in and out of other’s little worlds-
As safe as they are to me,
They are often lonely, boring places to many, if not just frightening.
If I were to climb a stairway to anyplace
It would be up towards the sky away from the throngs of people, and
Never abandon the circle that confines me-
For I do not feel as alone in my own world as
I do amongst the world outside
Around trillions of others,
And even though the ceiling may cave in upon me at times,
I can wish that nighttime visitor away, and
Listen to the calming voices in my head that have always
Been my saviors, and
Although nightmares and my demons may come and go,
I truly can see that
The outside world is an unsafe place,
And the demons in the world outside
Are more threatening to me than the ones that are a figment of my dreams.
Every night, as I peer through the slats of my Venetian blinds
I push reality away, and thank goodness,
That my world is my own…


Claudia Krizay
(schizoclaud)