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Cyndi MacMillan Avatar Cyndi MacMillan - LIFETIME Premium Member Cyndi MacMillan - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail Go to Poets Blog Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled SHADOWLANDS which was written by poet Cyndi MacMillan. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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                    “Once very near the end I said, 'If you can -- if it is allowed – 
                        come to me when I too am on my death bed.”

                       “Allowed!' she said. “Heaven would have a job to hold me;
                        and as for Hell, I'd break it into bits.” 

                         Oh God, God, why did you take such trouble to force 
                         this creature out of its shell if it is now doomed to crawl back
                         -- to be sucked back -- into it?

                                                     ~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


The division should be acute, 
the before her, the with her, 

                        the after her.

There is this constant 
rattling of doors, though they remain 
locked, in theory. I think of her 
as gone until I turn a page, 
read a passage of pompous 
dialogue and she returns,
My Joie de Vivre, 
entertaining me with that puckish 

play, unabashed.
She smiles in the dusk with crusading 
colours that bend dark horizons, 
changing clouds, unexpectedly. 

What was I before Joy? 

Content, pleasant, productive.                    
But was I alive, aware of life, 
its blissful rhythms? 
Irony defined: 
the heart which awakened stone 

                           no longer beats. 

Finally, I understand. 
Lessons are sharp things 
which infect both fresh 
and aging amputations. 
What do I do with this knowledge?
It is like learning a language 

that is no longer spoken, 
a long monologue 
unbearably forlorn, painful. 
Faith dismisses hauntings, 
yet she does so in daily degrees. 
O, the sweet ghosts that peer 

from those notes, 
my name underscored in margins. 
Why is there only one glove 
in the sewing box? 
Agony hunts me 
in the garden. Perfume almost, 
but not quite a match.  

Some rooms have snares. 
I dare not open a kitchen drawer. 
Pain waits there.
The specter of my former self, 
a staunch gent, so sure 

                            of Heaven's role, 

that cold bloke follows me 
into the shadows, 
land of man’s rage 
and despair.  There is no pretty 
death, no words can comfort 
the ravaged left behind, 
There is no poetry 
in our departing.

I only pray 
there is Godspeed in mine. 

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan

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  1. Date: 11/10/2012 6:08:00 PM
    Good Poem Cyndi, enjoyed seeing you on Craig's winning list.. always~ pd

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 7:50:00 PM

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 3:00:00 PM
    Congratulations on your winning poem in the "Loss" contest - / / Anne-Lise :)

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 2:17:00 PM
    what did i tell you a #1 grr cat in lap can't type lol congrads!

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 2:11:00 PM

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 10:31:00 AM
    Congratulations on your win in Craig's "Loss" contest Cyndi. Love, Carol

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 9:22:00 AM
    Congratulations on a well-deserved win! Beautiful and moving lines.

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 8:52:00 AM
    Congratulations on your fine win Cyndi xx

  1. Date: 11/6/2012 7:38:00 PM
    one hell of a good write Dee! wowser! Check out Chris A. latest & my reply LOL [must to to bed now..;) ;)] Light & Love

  1. Date: 11/6/2012 1:15:00 PM
    a very touching write, Cyndi. Thanks for the historical reference. How beautiful. hugs, catie :)

  1. Date: 11/4/2012 6:22:00 PM
    Thanks for the historical context, it breathed life into your words. Well written and obviously well researched.

  1. Date: 11/4/2012 12:54:00 PM
    such a touching write, Cyndi. I remember the film and loved his Narnia books as a boy