In the 7th Age

- jan-u-wine
The Colours of Middle-Earth

I saw her again today:

the beautiful black woman
with the burnt chocolate skin
and the cafe au lait eyes.

On the corner, she was,
socks of different hues
like windless sails
about her ankles.

The baby was with her,
his hair

tight tendrils of black-gold
in the sun.

I wanted to touch him,
he was so perfect
with his fingers
curled with
infinite
sweetness
about hers

and his sleeping eyes,
sealed with the soft whisper
of night-kissed lashes....

His lips.

They are

blue.

And strange-grey,
like the blank eyes
of a kitten I once found

drowned
in a well.

Oh.

And the colours go out from the day,
and the tender song
of birds

recedes from me.

And i look at my hands,
my nicely-nailed, pink-white hands,

and i see, oh, i do take note:


all my fingers are intact

and

in my rage

and

my helplessness,

I scream at the sky,

so serenely puffed-cloud-blue
above me.

Nothing changes,
and the sun puddles

sharp shadows
along the dim dirty street.

Nothing changes,
not then,
not now.

not

ever.    

I cannot save her,
nor

him,

nor
even

myself.

A black-and-white

pulls up then.

Its lights are like blood -
fresh,

vital….
pouring endless,

beating like fists
against my eyes.


Someone
small

who looks much like the dolls
i had from mysterious Asia
when i was a child

gently takes the child
from his mothers hands.

She tells me to go home,
this small person.


The world is melting
like wax candles

as i drive away:

faster

and


faster,

until
the houses

and people

and cars

and shops

are only
a blur

of colour
and sound

and sadness
lying against
my mind.

At home,
trash-cans

lie upturned
in the gutter.

A tiger-kitty
 
whose bold stripe
i recognize
stays within....

and a brown-skinned
child

picks gaily-coloured
treasure from the ruin:

spring green,

beetle brown,

crystal…

even

an effervescent blue....

I watch the child

and think on the day

and
how

evil so easily dwells among us.

and i kneel
and cover my eyes with my hands
that i might hide my shame

for we have all failed

The Ring.

OUR Ring.

In the end,
shall

It win?

What must
we do?

The colours of Middle-earth in the Seventh Age.
     

***From a letter written by JRR Tolkien in 1958: "I imagine the gap [between the Fall of Barad-dûr and modern times] to be about 6000 years; that is, we are now at the end of the Fifth Age, if the Ages were of about the same length as S[econd] A[ge] and T[hird] A[ge]. But they have, I think, quickened; and I imagine we are actually at the end of the Sixth Age, or in the Seventh."