“The Barn” (reprise)

On By Mike U.In Poetry

(originally posted 11/12/2021)

“The Barn”
© 2013 by Michael L. Utley

On weed-strewn verge of fallow field
The barn still stands, a silent revenant
Of ages past, a mournful sentiment
Amid the dying elms concealed

Its boards the hue of ancient bones
The wind has long since scoured paint away
As season after season rendered gray
Once brilliant lively crimson tones

Dead teasel husks caress its skin
A memory of lilac, wild rose
And hollyhock a melancholy prose
No longer whispered in the din

Of bitter zephyrs in the loft
That magnify each sorrow-laden groan
Each pensive sigh and every hopeless moan
Of dreams denied and yearnings scoffed

On cupola atop the roof
The antiquated weather vane points north
In rusted rictus, ever drawing forth
That demon wind on cloven hoof

Inside, the haymow lost to time
Illusory, a phantom from the past
Whose gilded straws have disappeared at last
An unseen grotesque paradigm

The ladder to the loft on high
Clings stubbornly amid the swirling motes
That dance in hellish pace to eldritch notes
The song of death, fey herald’s cry

And from the loft extends the beam
That transits barn so high above wood floor
Above the stack of hay that is no more
And from this, like some ghastly dream

There hangs a rope no longer there
Recast ephemeral by passing years
Whose insubstantial form allays no fears
Whose memory I’m doomed to bear

All silence now, sere winter’s grasp
Has stilled the air, the motes drift in the night
In moonbeams pale, and from the rope drawn tight
About my neck, my dying gasp

Lilts softly in the midnight frost
As it has done each night for years gone by
Eternal recompense to rectify
All that I’ve done, all that I’ve lost

(Author’s note: I debated whether to post this piece for quite a while. Some of the imagery could be considered disturbing, particularly in the last two stanzas. I used the narrator’s suicide as a metaphor for guilt, shame and loss and how those emotions can haunt us for a lifetime. I considered inserting a trigger warning at the beginning and spent several days researching studies and opinions on such tactics, with the results varying widely and no real general consensus met on how to handle sensitive or disturbing material. In the end, I decided against a trigger warning for several reasons, and chose to add this note instead.

If you or someone you know is suicidal, please talk to a healthcare professional, call your local area suicide hot-line or discuss it with a friend or family member. Above all, know you’re not alone. There is help available to get you through this difficult time.)

25 thoughts on ““The Barn” (reprise)”

    1. Thank you kindly. As someone who has battled lifelong major depression and PTSD, suicidal thoughts have been a constant, unwelcome guest in the back of my mind since childhood. I suppose in this piece, the barn represents depression, which is quite accurate in my experience as it taints and darkens everything, and makes it difficult to find reasons to persevere. When hope is gone, what’s left, you know? This is perhaps my darkest poem, but I’ve always considered it to be one of my best pieces. It’s raw and honest and frightening and describes the ravages of depression over the course of a person’s life, and how depression also amplifies shame and guilt and erodes self-worth. And what is good poetry if it’s not honest?

      I truly appreciate your kind words. Many thanks.

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  2. A beautifully written and melancholy read, Mike. I sensed the sadness and guessed where it was going, but I also felt a powerful regret. The timelessness is especially haunting, and I think, the rhyme scheme is part of what made it feel ageless to me. The death could have been a few years ago, or a few centuries, or a millennium. The barn became a gravestone that would eventually crumble to dust to dust.

    You were kind to research whether to add a trigger warning. I’m glad you didn’t since I think warnings work as a means to soften the intensity of emotion. Some poems are meant to strike us deeply and we do a disservice to ourselves if we don’t go there with the poet. But that’s just me. The note at the end was a thoughtful alternative.

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    1. Thanks, Diana. You’re right–I was going for a sense of eternity in this one, a sort of self-flagellating penitence performed over and over in an attempt to assuage the feelings of regret, guilt and shame of a life poorly lived. I love structured poetry, as you know, and I thought the syllable/rhyme scheme really did add another layer to this one that wouldn’t be there had I used free-verse. Structure tends to have an inherent flow, and this one has an almost surreal sing-song feel to it, with alternating line lengths (8/10/10/8) and the strange rhyme pattern. I wanted to sort of lull the reader into a sense of normalcy at first, then introduce a gradual feeling of foreboding and doom as the poem went on. And I’ll let you in on a secret: I had no idea where this one was going. I had the image of an old barn in the middle of nowhere (probably memories of a commission photo assignment I was given in 1998 to photograph old barns for a museum), and the poem sort of wrote itself. I wasn’t sure where it would end up, but as it usually happens, it ended up exactly where it was supposed to. I recall finishing this poem and then sitting there in the silent watches of the night, just staring at the final stanzas and realizing how dark the poem had become, but it was supposed to be dark. The poem demanded it, I suppose.

      I considered the trigger warning due to one specific event in my life: in 1991 I lost a friend to suicide, so it’s something that has touched my life directly. The fact that I’ve had suicidal thoughts all my life (major depression, PTSD from domestic violence while growing up) was also a factor, and I was unsure what to do when I decided to post it on my blog the first time in 2021. I’m glad I decided against a trigger warning, for precisely the reason you mentioned. This piece is supposed to hit hard and make people think, and giving away the game in the beginning before a word of the poem had even been read would have cheated the reader of the full meaning and impact of the poem. But I decided to add a note at the end due to my own experience with this topic.

      Thanks again for your kind comment, insight and support. I really appreciate it, my friend. 🙂

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      1. I didn’t even notice the 8/10/10/8 structure – a testament to how smoothly the poem flowed. You write beautifully, Mike, and I’m always blown away. I’m glad you shared this one. I think we need to air and darkness as well as the light. I connect to both, both part of my experience.

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    2. Thanks. Diana. I agree–it’s important to share our pain as well as our joy in our writing. When I suddenly and without warning began writing poetry one night in 2012 after twenty years of pervasive writer’s block (I’d essentially given up on writing), I made a vow to myself that I would be brutally honest with m poetry, that I would put on paper or screen the truth about my life experience, regardless of how anyone else may view it. I had to write for myself, and I had a lot of wounds that needed (and still need) healing. All of that poetry from my sudden “writer’s resurrection” is so very dark, but it’s all important to me. Much of it is here on my blog. I don’t plan on reposting all of it, but it’s there for anyone who feels like digging around in the dirt to see what’s there.

      Anyway, thanks again for your kind words, my friend. I truly appreciate you. 🙂

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  4. Mike, your decision to add a sensitive author’s note at the end vs. a “trigger warning” was a thoughtful choice and one that does not detract from the deeply moving experience of reading your poem. A poem I will be saving and returning to. Thank you.

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    1. Thanks so much, Michele. It’s such a dark poem, and likely the darkest I’ve ever written, but it has a lot of personal meaning for me as I’ve always struggled with major depression, PTSD, suicidal thoughts and damaged self-worth. I lost a friend to suicide in 1991, and that event was the main reason I considered adding a trigger warning. In the end, I realized it would be best just to let the poem speak for itself, and I added the note at the end because of my personal experience with the subject matter.

      I’m so humbled and honored by your kind words. To know someone as gifted as you enjoys my poetry…well, it’s really an indescribable feeling, and I appreciate it so much. *feeling deeply grateful* 🙂

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      1. Dear Mike, I am saddened to read about your struggles, and I am sorry about the loss of your friend. Losing a beloved to suicide is confusing and deeply painful. Your willingness to share takes courage and has the power to help others. I hold your words and pain in a loving light. No two lives are the same, but I do have an awareness of being in a dark place without hope. I was there several years ago. It’s probably why I celebrate light and life and desire to share that with others, because the darkness almost consumed me.

        Thank you for your graciousness in regard to me; I am just a teacher who finds joy and purpose in creative expression and supporting others. I’ve witnessed the healing benefits of writing both in my own life and with others. Your poetry is superb. Most importantly I hope your writing helps you with healing and offers you a place to release your emotional burdens. In gratitude, Michele 🌻

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    2. You’re so kind, Michele, and I appreciate your words of hope and support. We need people like you to continue spreading the light of hope. I’m sorry to learn you’ve gone through your own personal darkness, but I’m so glad to see that you were able to persevere and find the light again. Your blog is a joy to read, and your positivity and goodness really help people. Here’s to never giving up. And you’re right, of course–writing is a healing practice, and it’s helped me so much. May we all find our own means to continue on our paths toward better places. Thanks again for such a thoughtful, caring comment, my friend. 🙂

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  5. Dark, yet superbly written! I walked through the old barn with you and saw each part described. I was surprised at the last two stanzas, but felt it coming.
    I think the author’s note was the perfect way to handle the subject. A warning at the beginning would have detracted from the reading experience.
    Mike, a wonderfully written poem. Thanks for sharing yourself with us.

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    1. Kindest thanks as always, Peggy. This piece is really dark, yet I enjoyed the process of writing it. I was a bit surprised when I realized how it was going to end, to be honest. The signs were there, but it was sort of startling when those last two stanzas came out onto the screen. I write most of my poetry (and in the past, my short fiction) with no outline or roadmap–I’m along for the ride just like the reader, and this is what makes writing so enjoyable for me. I’m surprised by the destination at which many of my pieces arrive, but in retrospect, my pieces ends up exactly where they’re supposed to be. This was no exception. It’s not so much about suicide as it is the habit/notion some folks have that they can never assuage their consciences or atone for their own deeds or deal with the memories of how others have treated them. “Eternal recompense to rectify / All that I’ve done, all that I’ve lost..” It’s so hard to forgive ourselves sometimes, even for things that others have done to us and for which we bear no responsibility. The narrator’s eternally reliving his own suicide each night is just a metaphor for all of this. It’s one of my favorite poems, but I realize not many people will understand or appreciate it.

      Thanks as always for your wonderful support, my friend. It means so much to me. 🙂

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      1. That is the beauty and flow of being a writer. Sometimes it takes us to where we need to go instead of where we thought we were going.

        As always, a pleasure to read your poetry and again, thanks for sharing your gift with us, my friend! Blessings!

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  6. The sadness is palpable in this rhythmically gorgeous, profound poem. The last stanzas are utterly melancholic, yet hauntingly beautiful. Penning this one must have taken a lot of courage! This is a masterpiece, Mike!

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    1. Thank so much, Aaysid. I recall spending hours on this piece in the dead of the night, and sitting stunned when I finished it, staring at those last two stanzas. Such darkness, and it came from me, you know? But all my life I feel as though I’ve been paying penance for everything that’s ever occurred, both things I’ve done and things that have been done to me. The ending is just a metaphor for the inability of lots of folks to forgive themselves, and how we sometimes, sadly, hold ourselves accountable for the sins of others. Depression, low sense of self-worth, trauma, a troubled childhood…lots of things to sort out, and it takes a lifetime, it seems. But those last two stanzas really got to me because when I started the piece, I had no idea it would end like it did, but it had a life of its own and it ended where it was supposed to end, I reckon. Still, I really like this one. It’s so very personal, and I was pleased with the structure and the flow. Writing is so enjoyable when we’re simply along for the ride as it makes each piece we write an adventure.

      As always, your kind support means so much to me. I appreciate you, my friend. 🙂

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      1. I’m grateful to gain such profound insight into your writing process. Your writing emanates from a special place, and it truly shows. Thank you, Mike, for sharing your deeply personal, impactful, and moving craft with the world.

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  7. The sadness overwhelmed me with each stanza, Mike, like memories that create deep grooves of pain. Your work always moves me, but I read this piece three times. Like a hanging of perhaps what we would all like to hang – the hurt, misery, pain, things done to us in which we had no control, as none can live a stolen life and not have a bag on their shoulders that they carry along with them. I will get that when I enter heaven, but not before. God will wipe away my tears forever! Thank you so much Mike for writing something so beautiful that I can relate to in a way that is so beyond words and yet Mike, look how you did find the words. Blessings to you my friend and I am so grateful that you are sharing your talent with us. Love and hugs, Joni

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    1. Thanks, dear Joni. I’m sorry for the late reply (I’ve been away from my blog for a little while). Your appraisal of this poem is spot-on. We carry that weight forever, it seems, and sometimes we make ourselves suffer for things other have done to us as well as those things we’ve done. It’s an extremely somber, quiet and sorrowful poem…but it’s one of my best, I think, because it was so difficult to write, and because I really didn’t know where it was headed until I was mid-way through…and yet I continued on and spoke the truth about how it feels to carry our pain around and experience it over and over. Thanks for your kind words, my friend. Thanks for understanding my poetry. It means the world to me. 🙂

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