Writing 201: Poetry
Day#8 Prompt: Drawer, Form: Ode, Device: Apostrophe
You have travelled with me, you thick worn out text littered
With bookmarks and letters and dry flowers to commemorate
Some memory of some vague day spent with some person
Whose smile is already blurred, a part of another life, another me.
You’ve find your place in different spaces – the bookshelf on the corner,
Stuffed in a bag of things which didn’t fit anywhere else,
Locked inside a cupboard, in a box of sentimental yesterdays.
And now, you rest on the drawer next to my bed, closer
To me than you’ve probably ever been in your younger days.
I didn’t realize how much my life was linked with yours –
How your place changed according to the battle I was waging.
Your words were beautiful, rigid utopias which could never
Neatly be fixed into the sheer irredeemable mess of the everyday.
I held you at arm’s length: sometimes deriving comfort,
Sometimes agony at the distance between what you proposed
And how life actually was, sometimes an intoxicating joy
In being momentarily blinded from the world. Mostly, I was
Weary of you and everything you promised.
Now, after the repeated amens and endless recited
Rosaries and routine masses and alienating sermons
And the agony of my soul at the distance, the
Gigantic gap between what you contained and the hole,
The emptiness and death and stupor I saw my life as,
You rest on the drawer next to my bed, closer
To me than you’ve probably ever been in my younger days.