Evermore

A modern gothic poem of grief, shadows, and transcendence.

Dnalor 01, CC BY-SA 3.0 AT (Wikimedia Commons)

“Intangible!
Here a raindrop spans the sky
through which rainbows fall
to tender earth.

From nowhere else is darkness banned
save the door
between now and Evermore.”

These were the words I pondered
While the shadows grew long on my office floor,

and my family stalked the kitchen
In search of bread,
Which I couldn’t
Provide for them

(for they were dead)

When a crooked notion
Erupted in my head—

The fast escape from my empty life:

Addling my wits,
it bridled my dreams

In a flurry of despair,
I forgot them.

I forgot my—

Dusk light filtered through the blinds.
I kept reading, in a trance,
Got up from the floor,
Switched on the lights,
Into the kitchen,

And made a sandwich.

The television from my living room
beckoned,

“Drown your worries, and down your meal
in front of my delicious peel
this glowing glass screen
where reels and reels
of hearty entertainment play,

Let me devour your trivial quest—
as if that could earn you rest.

Forget yourself, and

allow me to lullaby your soul
to sleep upon your—
molting couch.”

The couch was a casket,
dank and dusty,

So I swallowed my last bite—
Collapsed to the floor

“Thank you.” I said,
leaning back.

Flash-Color-Numb
Sleep…

I awoke.

The television was off.
I got up, rocked the switch.

No TV—power out?

Behind me a wispy shout—

Startled, I turned around.

My child’s ghost.
The walls were waking.

Tap-tap, rapped the door.

“Yes?” I cried. “Who’s there!”
I shed a tear.

Tap-tap.

T-t-tap, t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tap.

I sprinted to the door, stumbled,
Solid oak and stained by years.
The peephole revealed a shrouded guest.
Something about them
Tugged my memories,
Tickled my gut.

I creaked open the door,
Stepped back,

Gestured to my table—
They sat—

I offered them
A can of soda.

Their sleeves raised, crossed.

My hands were shaking—
Couldn’t think.
My sweat was cold,
Composure breaking.

The sun was setting
As I avoided its gaze.

Light drooped in
from the street and moon

What did they want?
I thought to ask.

Tears pressed out—
No words released.

Another thought occurred to me,
Escaped my lips, audibly:

Tasting salt,
I said,
“I’m too afraid to speak.”

The shroud sat up straight.
The shadow under
Its cowl faced me—

I was naked in its scrutiny.

“See,”
Was its muted squeal,
Hood waving towards my study.

The office was ruin,
Books, letters strewn.

Someone else was in my house.

“You,” scratched the figure,
Louder

It stood up and turned around.

“Me, what?!”

It reached the door.
I jumped in front,

Yelled, “ME WHAT?!”

It reached past me for the handle.
I saw no hand.

”Wait—
What are you?
Who’s lurking about?”

The doorknob turned…

With a battle cry,
I flung myself forward.

Kissing the wall
with a silent swish,

The black robes fell as mud.

In an instant, hours fled.
As fabric pooled,
a hell that bled.

Uncovered, a wavering light—
Floated where a head
Should have been.

Curiosity fluttered,
Consumed my gaze.

To see what swirled
in the luminous core,

Collecting into a solid—
something

And…

Time stretched and shrank...

And…

That something—

A snow-white dove,

Flew towards me, wings beating slow,

Flooding my sight

And—

I wept.

It landed on my shoulder,
Perched, my timeless guest,
Not always seen—


* * *


I have cleaned my wrecked study,
I stood at the door
That opens into
Evermore.

It matters not where I stand—
Only that I stand, whole.

The ghosts of my family
No longer call,

They are with me,

One
and All.