Eye of the Tempest

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?    

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.    

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.            

I do not think that they will sing to me.   

-T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock             

…And the tempest shows no end

(Repose)

Looking out the window

To see the weeping willow

It wraps you in its arms

Veils you from my eyes

The rows of white

Set forth before the tree

For parishioners and the like

Come from far and near, for thee

And what of me?

Oh, what of me?

How I do hate myself for living

While you are lost at sea

But wait, that’s me

For I lost myself along with you

Oh, what of me?

I am in the storm

And you have reached the shore

I stalk your shadow throughout the empty house

To catch you round the corner, to see you in the blouse

From your birthday last November

I walked into the garden to watch you labor

To enjoy your trademark quirks

To see your skin so fair

But it did not work

I roll over in bed and smell your hair

You are not there

Oh, you are not there

I hate the ones sitting, who still have ones to love

But wait, that is not me…I now descend the stair

But full of tears and hate, do I dare?

You will not this time quiet my tempest

Oh, you are not there

I am the storm

You were my shore

I read my words from long ago

I found them in your drawer

An honest note penned in indigo

It prophesied a happy life together

How could it perceive what came next?

Your shadow stains the letter

There are tears in the text

With you the world has passed me by

I try to be a man of civility

Oh, how I lie

And I am not who I should be

Sad, if you did see me

Torrential tears like rain

To blow away my dignity, mentality, sanity

No answer found, in this brief clarity        

And Oh, what of me?

(End Repose)

And the tempest shows no end…

Picture courtesy of: http://www.paintingsilove.com/image/show/317080/storm-at-sea