Pain and Glory (A Movie Poem)

“If you do not write or film”,

the director wonders,

”am I alive?”

“What limbo am I in

when the shooting stops?

When my camera no longer

holds the beautiful prism.”

His films stay the same,

only he changes,

exchanging the silver screen

for glistening tin foil

heated under with a match.

When his pain matches

the others, he prays.

When greater, he’s an atheist.

The films are his only company.

He lives with them and for them,

remembering the cinema of his youth

filled with the scents of piss

and jasmine and summer breezes;

remembering the cave

where he learned

to read the light,

understand its alphabet,

and eventually, vocabulary

with each discovered ray.

He smiles as the music track

of little angels being taught

by the local parish priest

to match his voice note

by note flickers in.

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