Daytimes of This World
The sun went out
Like I knew it would
(They say it went down, but I know better
It is out – forever and for good.)
This lingering twilight is our last.
It wasn’t much to mourn, that twilight
Sky-gray flatness like galvanized steel
Not even a touch of trembling mist –
But it was all we had;
And now it’s gone.
(We have begun to forget what color is
Already – and the worst hasn’t come.)
We dread these dark hours ahead.
Maybe we wish they would actually end
Cut us off now, before we get worse
We are afraid of what we will become
I walk back to the porch
Without even turning round
Across a sinking lawn that we won’t see again;
And then I stop – staring at the ground.
A little white wildflower stares back,
Barely discernible in the deepening dusk
One of hundreds, if it were day again
But right now this is all I can see
And it is enough.
Time goes on. Like I knew it would.
Distracted pupils glaze over,
Tired of straining nerve receptors
Trying to make sense of this lightlessness
Invisible eyes eventually accept invisibility.
Don’t you see?
Sallow skin grows damp and gray,
Too decayed to find itself repulsive
Are we glad we cannot see it?
But wait – what does it mean to see?
Don’t you know?
It isn’t like there’s anyone to talk to
I am stalk-silent. I don’t even care;
Whatever sanity there was in me has died
So there’s no point. But still, sometimes
I wonder what would happen if I tried.
I am immortally tired, yet I survive
Something stronger than sanity sustains this mind
Holding it together, keeping it alive
What would you say if I told you?
It’s a picture of a flower, fast-fading white.
The last thing I saw
In the grass somewhere
(Don’t know where you are, hidden in the dark
But my God! – it is good to know you’re there!)
By Shannon Lise