They Come to Me When Things Are Still
They come to me when things are still
And leave me without choice to hear
The things I've heard and know too well
Of tired topics,
To be clear
I, myself and just the ears
Without chance to think, or speak
It seems all I do is overhear
Their endless banter of
Self critique
Seldom, do I have a moment
For myself
Today, for instance
Was particularly loud
Whoever it was, was certainly right
That first said
"Three's a crowd"
I can't offer much of thought
Since theirs are all I know
I can only give my humble acount
And let you have a go-
I'll introduce them as they came
How it was and
Why it changed
It wasn't always as it is, you see
And how it is, is
Quite the shame
Never the less,
Let me begin
To tell of how it all became:
The Child
In the dawn, there was just one-
A child, so warm and bright
Whose heart beat with resilience!
A shimmering star in a
Sea of night
Her laugh was like a
Summer song
As fresh as morning dew
That settled softly in the light
To wake the day anew
Her eyes were filled with magic
Her head, it danced with dreams
There never was a need for words when
All was as it seemed
But as it does
What is, became
And all the ways it was before
Would never
Be the same
The Monster
I remember well the
Day it came
The clouds that brought the
Storm that changed
The summer sky and
Satin breeze to
Pouring
Pounding
Pelting rain
The wind grew fierce and
Lightning striked
The sun, itself
Froze cold in fright
For what more than this
The clouds brought that day
Was the monster that never
Quite would go away
It ravaged what beauty was left
In the world
And haunted
And taunted that
Poor little girl
Til she forgot all things good
And hid out of fear
Always believing
The monster was near
So she silenced her song
To where all I could hear
Were the sounds of soft weeping
And the trickle
Of tears
And the monster who
Laughed
And who
Cackled and
Sneered
But there's more to the story
No, it doesn't stop here!
For when loud got the loudest,
The other appeared
The Mother
The child, still in hiding
Who had only
Herself
Imagined a world
That was anywhere else
With what dreams she had left
She escaped in her mind
And dreamed up a someone
Who could comfort her cries
She dreamed it so hard that
One day it came true
And the little girl dreamer
Split right in two
Half still the child
And half now the Mother
Now even in darkness
They both have each other
But as for myself
I find it exhausting, the
Circle of dialogue becomes
Somewhat daunting
Of the Child who weeps and
The Monster who's haunting
And the Mother who comforts
But it's I
Who gets lost in
The three back and forth, you see
All day and
Each night
That keep me awake with
No peace and
No quiet
For I am the vessel
That holds the inside
The body, imprisoned
By the thoughts in
My mind
And the places I know
And the people I've been
And that is the story
So far
The end.
Stephen Atkinson
Fri 22nd Jan 2021 17:27
A truly superb piece of poetry
Heartfelt, well crafted & flowing effortlessly throughout. ??