David Cauldwell

Last Escape (Truncated)

from 381.91
Last Escape.jpg

Last Escape (Truncated)

from 381.91
  • Prints on high gloss, high quality photo paper using archival inks

  • From a LIMITED EDITION of 22 (per size)

  • FREE shipping

  • Signed and numbered Certificate of Authenticity

  • Print comes with its own unique poem (click ‘More Info’), printed on high quality photo paper, A4 sized, which could be hung next to the print

  • Print only, not framed

  • Commissions available (info@davidcauldwell.com)

More Info

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  • Prints on high gloss, high quality photo paper using archival inks

  • From a LIMITED EDITION of 22 (per size)

  • FREE shipping

  • Signed and numbered Certificate of Authenticity

  • Print comes with its own unique poem (click ‘More Info’), printed on high quality photo paper, A4 sized, which could be hung next to the print

  • Print only, not framed

  • Commissions available (info@davidcauldwell.com)

LAST ESCAPE (TRUNCATED)

And the night is cold
A shrill wind aching off the ocean
Convict bones rattle cold concrete floor
Rheumatism bound
Guards snoring in the drunken bowels
Of yet another night shift
Everyone a prisoner on this island
Perhaps why the door was left unbolted
No time to think now
Only to run into spiralling darkness
Speeding on the tail of gusty gnarls
The bitter slap of freedom
Liberation suddenly scarier
Than the toxic comfort of incarceration  
In mangled undergrowth
Exhilaration muddles with fear
Branches snap in betrayal
Twitching dogs’ noses and the chase is on
Canine fever as convict flesh trails through the gums
This freedom too much, too claustrophobic
As kerosene lamps swing near, trips over
Face heavenward, breath nearly gone
Perhaps this is the destination
To see stars again the pinnacle, the best he can hope for
Is it better to die in the hope the next life yields freedom
Or to be alive and struggle for it in this one?
He offers his jugular to salivating maws
And the spirit leaps out
To become sentinel of the bark
Shrill wind scythes true for countless moons
Ageless nights
Many years later, a man summoned forth
Called by dead man’s melody awaiting a chorus
Before the tree
The man sings, wails, cries and dances
Unsure as to why
He hears sentinel story with every creak of the bark
Witnessed at last
This transmission the release
Suddenly leaves are greener
And so the next cycle blooms
Forest birds sing songs of immortality  
For there is nothing left from which to escape
When witnessed in velveteen vulnerability  
Nothing left now of which to be ashamed

Poem comes printed on A4-sized paper, unframed

Poem comes printed on A4-sized paper, unframed