requiem for the living [prose + poem]
What do you do when the most vital part of you is gone?
In one second your heart was full. In the next, it shattered. To a thousand fragemented pieces, scattered all across the planes of the world like despondent rays of starlight.
You can try and cry all you want but you're never getting them all back, you'll never get it back. That love, that joy---your heart and soul. It's gone from you. Forever.
It doesn't sink in at first. It doesn't until much later---slowly, softly. So gently. So tenderly. And with all the force and pain of a knife wound it stabs you straight through your soul, and you realize you're not whole anymore. You're not whole.
You're only a part, a broken part, of something that's not here anymore.
And then the memories come back---those last moments, those last seconds. The starlight. The sound of waves crashing onshore. The sunlight, so warm on your faces, your hearts. The joy. The perfection of all those moments.
Gone.
The violin sings a mournful tune;
the piano keys and her fingers move,
up and down,
but there is no sound.
Starlight falls so gently, so softly,
against the surface of the silent sea.
The wind is whispering, the birds are calling;
the sun is gone but the world spins on.
Death! Death! keens the black-feathered crows;
but the world spins on without a care.
Is there none left to mourn for the soul that is lost?
Will no-one come to guard her grave?
Years ago I walked this path;
back then, the sun was good to me.
Today again I walk this path;
but only the moon will guide my way.
The stars are watching wordlessly;
their light---so cold, so cruel---is bright as it had been
that night when you were still
here with me.
I played for you with flaméd words
that painted a dream of endless light.
I gave to you a world of our own,
a haven, a sanctuary---a place for our hearts alone.
The night still sings our everlasting song,
but where are you now?
Only I am left to listen;
but I cannot sing this duet on my own.
The piano is silent, for my fingers have turned
too brittle and cold for its ivory keys.
The violin lies as still as you
in a lightless coffin of its own.
If you were here I'd give you the world
and apologize a million times more for all that ever went wrong.
If you come back to me, love,
I promise I'll make everything right.
But fruitless dreams and deceptive wishes
are far worst than broken promises;
at least you'd be here to break them.
At lease you'd be here.
There's a torrent of rage and despair and grief
that won't stop---won't give my soul a rest.
I fear the pains your memory brings.
I fear the light of tomorrow's dawn.
If you would let me end our song
with this one last note---
though you cannot hear it---
then let that note be, joy.
When the dead are dead and gone,
who is left to mourn the living?
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
