Reunion
A poem about strength and defeat
I thought I had lost you for good.
Drinking under the stars until my vision blurred,
with sparkling * dots * * being all the company I needed.
A night kneeling high on life on death’s doorstep,
who had seemingly taken his first day off in all of eternity.
Waking in a hospital bed, seeking out understanding eyes,
but finding none, nor a reassuring arm on mine.
I knew then I wouldn’t see you anymore — I couldn’t see you anymore!
I thought I had lost you for good.
Still I kept my distance and left you alone.
And it was hard. Oh it was so hard. And it was pain.
An unfamiliar one, unlike the pains you can secretly enjoy.
I was no sick kid, spared from school and cared for by loving hands.
I was a man once, who summed up the wrong parts,
and found himself reduced to nothing.
No emotions, no aspiration, no opinions,
to accompany me through the darkness.
I thought I had lost you for good.
And I thought about you, oh did I think about you.
What else was there — had been there — in my life but you
to live for, to help me in coping with life — with having to live?
Do I? Who do I owe anything, anyways? Not you, that’s clear.
I thought I had lost you for good.
Then you show up in my dreams and it feels so good to dream,
and it hurts so much to wake, there isn’t more for me here — there’s less.
If one look of pity can be spared by a speculative benevolence,
then please … ! … ! … ! … allow me back into the unconsciousness.
My body aches when I lie, though.
My back, my hip, my sides.
Need to get out, move my deserted limbs,
yet I feel nothing thinking about it, besides:
Where would I go, anyway?
I thought I had lost you for good.
But you are everywhere I look.
I hear strangers ask for you,
I see you in the company of acquaintances,
and I long for you.
But I promised to myself and — having no one else to promise to —
I am afraid — that that’ll have to do.
I thought I had lost you for good.
But you tracked me down and here
in this run-down pub we are finally
Reunited.
I take in your scent and press my lips against your cold exterior,
pour you down and ride the waves of your flavor,
make me merge with you and you become mine!
I can’t help but wonder
if my guardian angel
has finally grown weary of me,
yet somehow I’d welcome it,
as so it is finally I,
who can get lost this time.
This is my response to a Pier 21 writing prompt on My Fair Lighthouse:
