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Broken Shadows

She has always had an energetic thirst for life
but now incurious thoughts are strung across her mind
and there they hang, a washing line of confusion
until a nudge of stretching shadows ripple her soul.
And the house…. is silent.

She moves but her heart, hands and feet
appear disjointed, as if ignoring each other,
moving in different directions, moving in detached ways,
Controlled, dictated by the very medication that keeps her alive. 
And the house is still… still.

A thought sits up and questions if this is her house
or is this just her remembrances of her house?
Confused she rings her memory but no one answers 
while the drawer of fragility slides even wider open.
The house sits and… considers!

She tries to hear the great-grandfather clock
that roamed her youth with the language of tick-tock 
but a distant noise and a remote discord
sticks in the throat of the house.
A mumbled moment and the house is silent again…as if awaiting… .

She’d always been able to look into the darkness 
as long as she had light.. leading her thoughts.
So now she wanders for a stroll inside her mind, 
alone apart from  past thoughts and present fantasies.
The house is nervous .. as it watches.

A sudden realization knocks on her front door
and she now knows this is not her house
but a prison cell, with unforgiving bars;
the nightmare tightens, a sense of perplexity increases.
The house takes a very, anxious breath

Suddenly footsteps and the jangle-dangle of keys
until ominously the footsteps and keys move in sync.
but finally her memory, remembers, recognizes who she is
just as the shadows begin to stretch and tighten!
The house asserts itself and the shadows… break.

Then from somewhere comes momentum,
a sense of escape, of freedom and back to reality
as she surfaces leaving grasping tendrils of deception behind.
But, at ninety seven, is her thirst for life almost quenched.
The house acquiesces and sits down to wait!

Ian Souter
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