All alone
at the end of the hall
shinning bright
day and night
my dear lamp
Forty watts
eternal vigilance
cloaked in shade
silent dedication
until
Tonight
Tonight was not
as last night
or the many nights
that I have known
before
Tonight--a little
less heat
Tonight--a little
less light
for Tonight
is not as the
night before
Tonight will be
a little colder
and a little darker
and the bill
I hope
will be a little lighter
For Tonight
on my way to bed
there were two clicks
a new sound
a simple sound
that the night before
would not have been noted
would not have been accounted
would not have been paid
But tonight is not
yesterday
and the click
is not without
intent
and thought
and concern
My dear lamp
sitting in the hall
all alone
in the dark
out of work
by a hand known;
a feeling I know
a feeling we share
cold
dark
alone
for who can feel the pain
of another?
6 comments:
This is a poignant awareness of things that we begin to notice only when threatened by adversity.
Like I said in my last poem...pain brings realization...
I have been through that phase too...
(Hugs)
I'll take those hugs. A good friend of mine a couple years ago almost died. The story he tells today is what he was able to see then that he had never seen before. I remember somebody in the audience asking him how one could have that same realization without almost dying. He didn't have an answer.
If only one could figure that out, how to have the realization without the exposure, though the rest of us can remind ourselves that each new day is by no means certain and that we need to look to today and use it well, it is a thought that tends to hide all to easily behind the hum of day to day living, and so there is a sense of envy, though one wouldn't wish the experience upon oneself or anybody else, of the kind of appreciation, unforgettable, undeniable, unfaltering, at the forefront always appreciation that someone like your friend has.
An undeniable, unfaltering appreciation, without opportunity to be forgotten, written on the page to be seen at any time and new postings of the same qualities and calibre at close intervals, for your translation, the sieve of your mind as it moves sentiment from within to without. Desolation, expressive beyond the bounds of the vehicle, more than symbolic, it is synecdochic, in the lamp there is all else, and though could one, as said, only do without the exposure, the realization of tonight being unlike last night, this poem in other words is undiluted. Moving, marvellous in the writing.
Oh honey..... My empathy... I cannot know your exact pain, but I can feel for you, and wish I could comfort you...
((hugs))
Thanks Annie. Just knowing you are there is enough. :-)
Ms Storm, you always say the most wonderful things. I'll have what you're having. Maybe double. :-D
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