If Only Time Ceased
One small mistake; one mistake, with an impact
Of a life sentence! And here I reside
This dark, horrible cell that taunts me
With its lonely imperfect presence. Now does
The fire of youth and love condemn me,
A love I can’t forsake,
That I now should turn towards demons
Of this desolate and dark jail; it tells
A story of suffering and heartache to me.
It compels my isolated soul to read the
Account, under the dark shadows, of a boy
That knows no resting-place, that suffered through
Countless years all alone with his tortured heart,
And clothed in soot and mud, comforted only by one
‘Long his lonely road. I now read this account, carved with
Blood onto this cell wall:
‘By myself I sat
The trees shook, taunting trembling-trees, carriage crawling
Through desolate rugged winding roads: the horses shrieked,
A lightning like crack rung; the driver fell far
Silence stirred, then click, the horses fled frightened!
Mud and brush covered, the paths blended
Helpless to stop the carriage all alone,
Soon I started to cry, carried through winding roads
Until… At last the horses stopped.
Free from the carriage, I was then forced
To wander about the countryside limp and drained
When at last I saw light.
But alas, I shivered, wishing for rest, giving in to death.
Faint green flickering lights, the smell of lavender greeting,
Questions filled my brain, ‘was I dead?’
No response was given, no answer for silent questions;
A metallic taste poured into my mouth
And an image of: leather birds?
Lavender smelling birds: large, staring down at me.
Silence soon broken by answers of life
‘Your heart has failed your body my dear child,
Its arteries, replaced, reconstructed, mechanically
Your life has been replenished.’ A solitary, creaking
Tick…tick…tick…tick filled the soft room,
A sound that haunted; a silent voice,
For mine had been taken in haste,
By the metal hands of doctors in an attempt for the life
I had lost-
The means of universal communication,
Reduced to a test subject to study,-
But, a miracle of life all same
Fibrous rings now of bronze metal and ribs
Carved out, a cavity in my chest:
The vocal cords removed to allow me to breath
Fabricated life, but a life to keep living,
The beauty of a second chance given.
Four years
Of new life had led, and, wonder! A new-
Family and home to care for me
Doctors to save; a beauty of life
Given, a women to carry my sorrow,
A women I called Nana and who called me Wade-
If only, time ceased, and I could remain in that moment,
God of Time! bring me back to that moment,
If only, time ceased, and I could remain in that moment!
A flame, a birthday surprise, fifteen candles placed,
Nana singing sweetly, soft and delicate,
A memory soon to be corrupted,
Whale oil of a lamp I carelessly spilt:
The fire blazed high, a blessing or a curse
Only I outlived, the
Screams of torched terror
The gleaming asylum I previously called home, reduced to
Ash and rubble. I wished for death to come,
To take me, free me, from this agony of a broken life
But ultimately the fire died; the solitary ticking clock
Tick…tick…tick..tick…tick, filling the silence
Of my lovely Nana, who wanted to share,
Her life’s work: my cursed ticking heart
Her only dream taken from her, into ash
No more could she love. I kept on
(The years grew tough as I carried
My Nana’s only gift to the damaged world)
Wandering all alone forever and ever. Five long years
Passed all around me. Walking through towns
Being chastised by panicked residents: the harsh words,
The pain, the constant condemning and bitter profanity,
A boy without pity, cast aside by society
For my ever ticking heart
I wished; for someone to see me,
To hold me, in struggling times
To see past surfaces.
No one dared though,
And I was left to my own solitary life,
I ventured on in a
Cursed life, neither family nor friends; roving aimlessly
I returned; to the ruins, to my devastated home, and
Charred stone. Charcoaled and cracked bones
Haunting my sunken eyes, remains of the people I
Killed and loved; their cold stares pained me
To clear ruined building and bones,
No life, no soul, just a continuous silent
Tick…tick…tick…tick–I had no soul
I feared the world and those it held
I feared flames; lights blazing bright
A fear held deep inside me,
Nearly a boy of nineteen now, who feared fire;
A pathetic boy with no friends or family
Who stole to live, who existed at the expense of others;
During the late witching hours, I thieved
From local farms, I stole vegetables I stole,
And lived long–! I stole. Am I despicable now?
Someone who takes from hard working people
And families; questions that haunt me even now
A reminder of pain; of the ones I lost
In past, and future; the ones I kept hurting,
Ones I will, people I loved greatly.
I never asked for the carriage wreck or
For my heart to give out, run mechanically,
For Nana, and all the others near, to die
For a constant tick…tick…tick.
A miracle,
Or another grave mistake of mine, towards people I loved
The consequences of my horrible existence:
A silent night of wrongdoing and a reminding tick
The farms compelled me; my weakened withered stomach,
Oh dear, dear Fool; my ignorance and hunger blinded me
I lacked the proper perception needed, and as
I stumbled towards the fields slowly, crack!
I screamed silently. Alack! A hidden beaver trap
The world fell in as I gave into pain,
Oh dear, dear Fool! They were set to catch,
They were right to catch a pitiful thief
Though I freed myself anyways; I didn’t get far,
I could see to glow of their lanterns, crawling closer
Oh err to err: a silhouette came into vision
A boy my age tall, strong, heavenly glow
He reached me quickly, he saved me
He brought me, to a delicate clearing,
Defended me, he brought me food and clothes,
No pity towards my broken heart, only concern
One could call our love a friendship,
But they would be wrong.
It was absolute affection. He sat beside me
I would write and he would read;
And the moments with him were full of
Wonder and newfound joy; but alas, nothing lasts forever,
Alden, my sweet, and ever loving Alden
Had a horrid father; who grew suspicious of his absence
As time passed between my injury and freedom,
His father followed, followed to our dwelling,
His arm brandishing a rifle; Alack! He,
He shot, not me, but Alden, his kin,
Who jumped in front, taking a bullet through
His never again beating, silent heart,
And my poor love! Life-
Taken again before my eyes like a constant curse
My life, a crime in the eyes of wicked society
My existence erased–condemned to a horrible cell
Where the darkness consumes me and Nana and Alden
Consumes our memory; but I live, as a
Prisoner, a lowlife in chains, who writes
And scrapes my memories: into the
Cell of pain–Oh! Will someone see me
And my love. I carve my sorry existence
Into the body here, for others with same crime to hear,
The stone, the memory, to remain here for all eternity
The hope that my story shall, and the others
Shall stay, to be remembered with a silent tick…tick..tick!’