Euridice Magazine

Freddy Finkel is a scientific researcher based in Berlin. His is a poetry that explores a dark depth, touching the boundaries of a drift, an impending presence. After a mental breakdown due to personal losses and addictions, he found in poetry one way among others to cope with his pain. I merge Greek, African and Christian sentiments to describe my pain. I am African and I am German. I am trying to find accountability for my actions and find pathways for expression while bounded by these two cultures.

Show me you

Show me the mountains climbed
Show me the hands full of callouses
Show me the heart ripped and scared in redemptive battle over vile behavior
Show me the soul purged of devious deeds
Show me the mind cleansed of toxic patterns
Show me a good man
Show me you.

*

Running for my life

Running and leaping with flames not far behind.

My mind is tortured for all I have done. For this reason my calendar is always full. To stop is to think. To breathe is to sink. The only place my thoughts have power is when I sleep. So I move with swift feet, a rat race with the hounds of damnation. I can’t stop to catch my breath. Maybe I should and raise my hands in surrender. Let the hounds catch their prize, let the earth swallow me whole. Let there be no tombstone, no mark that I was ever here.

*

Dark flowers

Dark flowers growing through cracks in a rocks
Roots driving, digging, holding, taking drops left from milky mornings.
Swift leaves, curly petals, dark colors shining with dark sunsets
Stem stiff branches haphazard, holding broken leaves.
Petals fall petals grow petals everywhere
wherever whenever however.
Cycling, moving, swaying, still staying static.

*

Draw the curtains

Curtains lavish and embroided
Draped on sceneless windows
Scented with colorful tones
Barely touching high walled floors
Curtains drawing on misguided steps
Curtains parting revealing empty faces
Empty choices momentary goodness
Curtains drawing ever closer on mundane faces
Curtains finally drawn.

*

What of me?

Sadly my plane did not crash. I am
still alive to enjoy the fruitlessness
of my life. The still breeze of
shame washes over me. Sad smiles
all around. Laugh at my shame,
grin at my desolation. Poke a finger
in myself inflicted wound.
I stay alive because to die by my
own hand is selfish they say. What
would my brother do? What
would my mother do? What of my father?
What of me?
That my life is an empty hollow,
an empty tavern,
a bare rocky outledge creeping out of an ocean?
What of me? My world crashed around me?
What of me?
A solitary eagle in flight from the hounds on my tail.
What of me? A flightless bird,
sky bound having given my feathers away.
What of me? Please let me walk into the waves.
Let her give me a warm embrace. Let me find rest. Let me find peace.

*

Gentle fingers

With gentle fingers I wipe away the tears that only I can see. Proof that I have hurt others and proof also that I have loved.

I want a bullet in my brain to stop the pain. I want a noose around my neck to bring finality to my stress. My bed is made of self-woven thorns, demons with horns roam my dreams and haunt my brain’s narrow streets. A veritable Jack the Ripper has ripped out the embers of my soul’s fire. The embers smolder and brew dark smoke. The flame of my life is extinguished and with no notion of rekindling. I want to see one more sunset and imagine you seated by my side. I want to close my eyes seeing you smile. A final sunset as I cross the river Stix. Coins on my eyes to pay the boatman. Perhaps 30 pieces for the dagger I put in your back.

*

I saw them on the hills

They knew my name
I saw them in quiet places, I heard their voice
They shone they light, in it I flew
Above pain, above misery, I didn’t feel ashamed.
I am lost but they showed a way.
A way to me, the same way to them.
Their name is love, and they told me so is mine.

*

Joy has a slender body that breaks too soon

Choices without reflection and thinking lead to dark alleys.

Sadness fills the spirit faster than any elixir. I am so sad I could die from sadness.

Embarrassment is my daily food.

I drink shame to sleep and awake in agony. My mind is eating it self like a snake eating its own tail the cycle repeats and has repeated my whole life with no end in sight.

But the darkest nights hold the promise of the brightest dawns.

Broken branches grow, so does faith and hope.