Sonnet: Schopenhauer's Pessimism Rears Its Ugly Head
by John Kendall Hawkins
.
Aboard the ferry to the Golden Horn
you could see the Galata Tower rise
out of the old world. And the smell of corn
on a stick and girls wearing evil eyes.
I sipped rose-coloured à §ay, let my thoughts waft:
the erosion of confidence over time
Back over Kadikà ¶y, smoke brown and soft.
Schopenhauer's Will tinkled in my mind.
I leaned out over the railing, faded,
when a hijabbed woman, like a blackbird,
leapt up, over, into the sea. Jaded
through the hue. "Help!" she cried. Absurd.
I thought, leaps of faith come in all colors,
over the Kurd's ululating hollers.
