Beneath the Shade

The Boy and the DaemonCENSORED

It seemed like such an innocent “Hello.”
Your lips flush against my bark, O so still.
Smooth dimples quickly felled a hollowed soul;
Your hands, mouth moved against my trunk until

One cautious cunning cupid flexed his bow
As if compelled by Eros’ fertile psalm.
That arrow jarred me, shook my branches low!
You fell into my leaves, but in his calm.

Had Fates charged me to shade your other love?
To be your fool? I shudder to think what
I might have conceived had I been part of
This wretched, vile scheme! Mercifully not.

Thick sap drips slow; dries against this breeze.
O Love! thou Great Delusion! Release me, Thief!

(Click here for the uncensored version of “The Boy and the Daemon”)

The Station

The Station

Struggling now to breathe past the wall of air;
Cold and blist’ry, I fight to face the east.
Hope warms my veins; I see a slowing glare.
Passengers depart once steam has released.

Your face breaks through the air of warm and cold.
I’m reminded of the joy your smile brings
Your bag drops as you pause to pay a toll.
I thought you’d stay; and now you plan to leave?

You whisper sweet things against my stone ear;
You have a plan beyond this boggy plain.
I cling to you before you disappear
You smile, peel away, and re-board the train.

A lump forms in my throat; I force a smile.
I face home and walk alone that bleak mile.

Stages

phan-on-porch

All things end.

Sometimes they end loudly, sometimes with a whisper, and sometimes without any notice at all. The neighbor’s 14 year-old cat suddenly isn’t making his evening rounds, scratching against your porch door anymore. Your favorite sitcom, in its seventh season, suddenly disappears. Your sweet grandmother passes away in the night.

At one moment, these things are an integral part of your life … in another, they are simply gone.  How it effects us depends entirely on the energy we invested in these things or these relationships.  In RL, I have wept openly over the loss of a kitten, and yet have been completely unable to shed a tear at a relative’s funeral.

Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross proposed the infamous Five Stages of Grief in her book, On Death and Dying.  Primarily aimed at the emotions one goes through when faced with their own death, many have applied to other aspects of loss in our brief human lives … the loss of functionality, perhaps … the loss of a career, the divorce of a spouse.

In Second Life,  the events, the creations, the relationships we enter into are often derisively referred to as “moves in a game,” but too many of us know that our real world emotions can get caught up inside it just as easily as they can in the Real.

Attachments form.

Friendships blossom.

Commitments are made.

And where the end can come simply by someone’s decision to not log in anymore, life can be just as devastating in our cosmos of pixels. The end of these attachments are often compounded by the awareness that we may never connect with a particular individual again.  There aren’t the forced connections like shared custody, alimony, or sharing the same gym or mall can bring. No accidental butt dialings. No driving by the house you shared.

It can all be gone in less than the time it takes to clear a sim.

In honor of this type of loss many of us have known, I wanted to share a series of poems that I wrote recently after the loss of one of my attachments (yes, a romantic one).  I tried to emulate the iambic pentameter style of the great romantics of Elizabethan times, but only to etch in the emotions of grief rather than to color the pink hues of new love.

There is one for each of the the five stages … and if you’ve kept up with this blog, you’ve already read these.

Denial – Lacquered Floor

Anger – The Scorned

Bargaining – The Jeweled Box

Depression – The Cave

Acceptance – A Glimpse of You

A Glimpse of You

A Glimpse of You

A glimpse of you caught me quite by surprise;
You did not see me standing near the door.
I smiled upon the joy bright in your eyes,
A restfulness too hard to just ignore.

That you have made your life apart from me,
That you have found a love to fill your days;
I toss an empty shell out to the sea,
My animosity now fades away.

You stop and catch my eyes before you leave
And hesitate as sadness fills your eyes.
A moment passes, then I pull my sleeve
And shake my head and smile at you with pride.

Don’t think of us with suff’ring anymore;
I wish you all the love your heart can store.

The Cave

The Cave

Awakened by the clicking of the clock
I rise to see the passage of the day.
The hands do disappoint with their loud tocks
Reminding of the vacuum that remains.

A faded memory comes and goes like mist.
I see you dancing, then the specter’s gone.
I stumble as I reach toward what’s missed,
Then fall and lay against the floor till dawn.

The pain inside my chest has weakened though
An emptiness has wrought my heart a cave.
Although I filled the void with a new beau,
Those echoes from our past rose from the grave.

When will this sadness in my heart retreat?
Will Fate find me standing whole and complete?

 

Photo taken in the caves at Thornburn, at Luna Sancta.

The Jeweled Box

jeweled box

The jeweled box of love and mem’ries springs
Wide; clicking, glinting from the lightened room.
The bothered dust doth make a mist of things;
The air and I surrender to the plume.

My lips move against your ear to whisper
My revenge; hindsight checks my eager tongue.
We move through that fateful week undeterred,
But still you leave, and I remain undone.

I close the box as clocks can’t be rewound.
If pride had not soaked my stoic nature
Would it be that I were here still alone?
If I had knelt, begged: might love still endure?

I stand to wipe my face, to snuff the flame,
To pray for quick respite from love’s vile pangs.

The Scorned

The Scorned

I feel your eyes ask mine to say a thing
About the Judas song now fresh and deep
From your own lips, a sign of what might sing
Within my heart, though they have yet to weep.

I sit as stone, and I begin to boil
With rage as you describe the change you feel.
A diff’rent choice is made; I should not spoil
What love renews! Must I rejoice, or kneel?

The things I wish to say or do, unpinned.
I’d crash your face against the wall and let
It bleed as surely as the wound within
My heart now pours out on the pavement wet.

Though Time has pulled this vengeance from my veins,
I’ll die before I let you in again.

Lacquered Floor

Lacquered Floor

I feel your arm flex hard around my waist
Your breath moves heavy, hot against my neck
The lacquered floor reflects our love in pace
Alone, I twirl and land against the deck.

I look back up at you with outstretched hand
You reach for me and yet pass through my skin
Perplexed, I right myself in hopes to stand
As light moves through your very core within.

How could I have missed your final moments?
I did not hear the door, the windows close.
What could have stopped this heart from being rent
Left beating now against a floor of stone?

I still hear your feet across the lacquered floor.
My heart still feels a love my eyes ignore.

 

Inspired by true events, and this video:

The Tide

The Tide

The sound of wind and waves divert my thoughts
And lure me down into the tide and sand.
The spray of water, tiny grains do plot
And kneeling, I accede to its wet hand.

The ebb and flow caress my hands and feet.
I lay against its flesh; it bathes my core.
I feel its strength begin to wane, recede;
I follow as it leads me down the shore.

Another morning from afar I see
Another kneel into its moist embrace.
I watch the naked other yell in glee;
The tide’s white foam splashing his chest and face.

I disjoin my soul from the tide’s sweet bait,
My knot moves chest-ward; I accept my fate.

Desolation Road

Desolation Road

You spoke one word
Our world was formed.
You made the Earth and sea
Where nothing was before.
The miracle of life was born.

You spoke one word
Sickness was gone.
One word healed blinded eyes;
The dead saw life once more.
The miracles of faith was born.

Can I ask one question, Lord?
Why have I suffered so?
Was I not the blinded man
When I called your name;
When I called your name?

Where are your miracles?
Should I have prayed for more?
Could my faith be too small
To end my pain,
To end my shame?

Where are you now;
Where are your miracles?
I’m not a lepered man,
But I need to end this pain.
Are there no miracles for me?

Where are you now?
Where have you gone?
Why am I here alone
On Desolation Road?
I guess … there are no miracles this time.