I paced the floors of plastic chairs and disregarded magazines
I stared blankly at linoleum floors, mind blank, afraid to think
I could not cry the tears they expected
Just pace and wait and stare and wait
And wait.
He comes out
A chipper man in a coat, white as naïve snow, so easily blotched and stained
Who tells me with a cheerful tone made grave
That you won’t make it, there is no chance
They will try but in the end,
No chance.
I refuse to believe
In fact I laugh
Who is he to judge your life? To dictate its terms and lengths?
He’s no one but a man tormented by what he cannot see,
I see right through him, just like he thinks he can see me.
I tell him you wont die
Tell him you cant, that you have no time for death
And when I hold your hand Christmas’s from now
We will laugh at the foolishness of the trained professional’s.
He tells me it’s denial.
I deny my denial,
You wont stop for death
And death wont stop for you.
And when they said I could go in
To the room of yellow flowers, horrid on pink wallpaper the color of sickening memories
I held your hand, so pale now
The drugs in your blood are too deep to let you see me
The haze around your mind is thick as a basilisk eggshell,
I reach inside to penetrate it.
Too thick.
I spend the time, of which I know nothing
In that room, trying to reach you through the haze
Reaching for something I could not find.
I lost the touch and dipped into
The world I thought I had lost,
Ones inspired by Narnia’s and Other World’s, of child’s hopes and fantasies.
I stalked creatures and hunted nightmares for days
And emerged at the castle where I battled fierce to the top
To surface and find the haze had gone, the lines gone still
Your breath cooled and the toughness gone.
I didn’t call for the nurse, Mary, she said
I just looked at you and sat back in my chair
And hunted and dreamed and battled
And left my castle forever.
Do you like it? Any critiscm, suggestions?
Comments
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The dying of innocence. The exit from a fantasy castle to the real, often terrible, world. The poet "hunted and dreamed and battled", like a legendary heroine, to keep her youth's naivete, but reality, fortunately and unfortunately, wins in the end - "And (I) left my castle forever."
A very fine write for me to wallow in, colin - beautifully imaged with the ring of myth, grand and personal at the same time. I like it.
And I want to wish you as Merry a Christmas as is possible in our weird world, with all its hopes for peace and joy to people of good will. And may you have a blessed and happy New Year, my good friend, again, as much as is possible.
Lad -
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Lad,
And a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you to. The world is indeed weird, but there is still goodness in it.
I'm glad you liked my poem.
-Colin
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Hey Colin,
Nice poem, I really liked the poem. Out of curosity, I have one question: In many of your poems, you draw connections to Narnia. What do you find int that world that draws to your or your character's world? I liked your metaphor about "naïve snow, so easily blotched and stained." That has a lot of great imagery.
Nice job!
Saturday -
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Hey Mar,
Im sitting here now wondering when I last made a reference to Narnia. Ohhh, Can You Feel The Love Tonight. I think its really just the first magical land that comes to everybody's minds. It does sound great though.
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