Inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), I explore the macabre.
Once I lay on my silken chamber bed,
A bed of thorns, nay to roses red,
Thorns that prickled every regret
Thorns that reminded, lest I forget.
What needed reminding? I remember
Each and every memory, I trembled.
Desires ungainly and small,
My own judgements and cruelty – I recall.
But what has woken me up then,
And brought me this strange countenance?
Dazed I swam in those memories sharp,
Of blunders and faults I once exalt.
I saw upon the closed window’s sill,
perched a creature dark and still,
Grim it was but not enough,
And neither was it too comforting.
It just was, and it was there,
like an omen – sudden and bare.
Crescent moonlight made them shine
It’s great wings, so smooth and fine.
It looked through me with beady black eyes,
those soulless, dark and calculating eyes.
It looked at my dismal life,
things for remorse and fewer smiles.
I understood what this meant,
why I woke with an eternity spent
In those few minutes that I reflected
About those uncertain dreams and certain follies.
Fear
’twas because my time has come,
to pay the piper now that all is done.
This creature, this bird, is the harbinger
of that eternal companion when your candle is burnt.
“I beseech thee”, I groaned hoarse and fast,
hoping release from my dreadful past.
It sat there still and did not fly
Judging me with its black, beady eyes.
I sobbed and moaned on my last,
Dreading if pain is all there is to my past.
Each memory becomes a burden,
Remembrance becomes a sordid task.
Anger
And as the night darker grow,
Something changed within me below.
I stared at it and my temper rose,
To defend my choices, everything before.
I glared at it with a fire strong,
within my mind it belongs –
To a life of ease, selfishly spent,
prioritizing survival is all I meant.
I came to defend some actions mine,
where it was imperative to be fine.
I helped myself as God asks,
And found it right to live up to the task.
Realization
Oh! But as the dawn approached,
My eyes were wide and I reproached.
I clasped my hands to the bird,
Sobbed and regretted being untoward.
It was my time to go I knew,
When Aurora rides for the morning dew.
And I came to understand it then,
My life has been about the win.
As soon as this bird will fly,
fly away with it my fragile life.
No pleading or anger will prevent,
The finality for which every life is meant.
It was my choices and I was proud,
Not living in the final fear of shroud.
And then I realized what I am leaving behind,
God has indeed been very kind.
My wife whom I love so dear,
My children, who live without a fear.
My work which saw me grow,
And pride upon my parents’ brow.
I realize whence the time comes,
One can cry but cannot run.
There will always be something to regret,
There will always be something you forget.
And hence dawn burst out from afar,
The robins sang their morning call.
It was then time to go,
The bird looked me finally through.
It finally spread its wings,
Turned and was lost in the spring.
Along I went with it as it flew,
Content – I did what I was meant to do.
Literary Expeditions 