The calm of morphine kept fading,
By little I found the pain brewing,
While the untamed heart kept pounding
Much like a blanched pigeon
Freshly caged.
Days were lost in hours of pain,
Weeks passed as I couched
Sans the strength to speak out,
I gave a whisper one day
As lightly as a fading song,
I asked the doctors about her health.
Spells of hallucination always struck,
I remained in a hospital bed
Looking at the monitor echoing my beats,
But a moment after, I am in a car,
Racing at knots at the rage of opium.
In a moment my life became white,
Her hands were clutched onto mine,
I looked into her eyes and a paranoia rose,
Is it the morphine that flows through me,
Or is it the opium that makes me high?
The doctors claimed she had died,
But then who sat beside me last night?
Drops of tears concerned my vision
I felt her as real as the flagitious doctors
Who raced around me like wild hyenas.
A white veil separated me from life,
The car drifted on wildly,
My veins were clogging with opium,
I stared blankly at her eyes
Which appeared cold in fright,
I loved her, I assumed she knew,
I would have said it too,
But the screech of breaks
Blocked my speech.
I woke up once again,
I never felt motion,
Nurses rushed to pick my state,
In a touch of visible distaste,
I asked again about her health.
They spent a few seconds in tumult,
And assured she is safe and great,
I breathed, I saw light,
I saw her hands reaching out for mine,
I saw the monitor going blank.
The wrath of love is witnessed remarkably when separation strikes in between. What stands next is just an existence that lacks life.
ReplyDeleteThe poem finds itself with a narrator who lost his beloved in a car crash that he himself caused.
But is it all? Do the car crash exist in reality or in his sub conscious mind? Find out.
I like how 4th and 5th verse contradict themselves. I've always loved human consciousness and how emotional trauma and drugs affect it, to the point we're not sure which of the realities we're experiencing is true. Thus said, I like this poem and the way it flows.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Nataša for looking onto my poem and dropping your comments. :)
DeleteIt is hard to guess for me.....so nicely written, sometimes it seems like a reality, sometimes like a dream and sometimes like a vision.....
ReplyDeleteAs a reader I have given options to think of either. You could choose what you want out of the poem. :)
Deletea bit scary - my dad's in the world of morphine and monitors at the moment, but I sure like your style
ReplyDeleteIm sorry about your Dad. Hope everything becomes OK.
Deletewow...what a tale...told in such a way i am right there as well...took me back to the death of my mother in law...so sad...i am glad though your narrator has already found her in the after...
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Brian. Ad Im sorry if it led you to sad memories. TC anyway. God be with you.
DeleteAh, I read this a few times. My thought is that at the end of the poem the narrator died (monitor went blank) and joined his loved one who was reaching out to him from the 'light' (in the tunnel it is said people often see when they die). A strong poem. I was swept along in its telling, didn't really know on first reading what I believed about the reality....but in the end I concluded both died but joined one another on the other side!
ReplyDeleteThanks a ton Mary for taking the time for reading it carefully and posting your views. It is true, that is how I intended the ending to be. But I do believe the choice of interpretation rests with each reader. :)
DeleteWhat a powerful poem this is.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Lisa. :)
Deleteterrifying, full of pain and such tender love too.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Laura. Both for the comment and for joining the blog.
DeleteA very painful poem, yet moving and so real.
ReplyDeleteIntense, heart-breaking, and gorgeously written your choice of language and the flow really enhances the sense of a drug-induced sort of haze (how I imagined it at least)
ReplyDeleteThank you. I am glad that everything I wanted to throw out with the poem was gracefully caught. :)
DeleteI interpreted your poem the same way Mary did. A strong write. One feels the slipping in and out of consciousness, and the other-worldly feelings of the person in the bed.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Sherry. Glad you picked it up. :)
Delete/much like a blanched pigeon freshly caged/ Wow - great line.
ReplyDeleteThanks Bon. :)
Deletei dont have much words to tell how is this one only thing i want to tell u is ..ur not an ordinary student foe me... i like u a lot nd wishes god makes u to make this kind a lot..more in ur feature...
ReplyDeleteThank you Sherin sir. This comment means a lot to me. :)
Deletenice
ReplyDelete