by Richard Vince
Another Monday night squandered
In a different time zone: tonight,
I trade sleep for the eastern seaboard,
For a state I never saw, for
The state she was in despite
My innocent incredulity.
In my mind, the blue skies are
Open to the heavens, and she can
Still see Saturn’s rings on a clear night,
An ethereal joy to behold, to distract,
To tell the angels all about.
It was never real, and yet suddenly
It was: the curse that seemed fabled,
A source of gallows humour, of
Knowing glances to camera that
The innocent misread but we
Smugly understood, played out
Terrifyingly before me like some
Lurid opera, some grotesque dance
From which I could not draw
My rapt gaze.
The other voice, the placating words,
Were silenced in my memory,
Drowned out by sounds that
Eventually made their own sense.
My escape was a lucky one – another
Bullet miraculously dodged – and yet
My old adversary, nostalgia,
Crept back in while I was
Looking the other way. At least
It left her behind.
It is another trip I will never take,
Another place I will never be,
Another sight I will never see:
The beauty of her wings spreading
To fill the sky as she ascends
To join the heavenly host at last.
Posted on 12/21/2017
Copyright © 2020 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by John Herzog on 12/21/17 at 11:10 PM|
"In my mind, the blue skies are / Open to the heavens, and she can / Still see Saturn’s rings on a clear night" What a magical image. Sometimes peace only comes in the form of a dream.