Tension filled the air
like golden coils,
almost ready to be sprung.

A slinky walking down the stairs.
Old and rusty.
Insides glaring dully
by the light of far off stars.

No young and well-made hand
to push it on.
No energy to make it
move along.

Not here, within this air,
so filled with tension.

The fear of the ages
arising again.
The tears of the aged
have never been penned.

Limitations curdling
within their weary minds.
Hearts awaiting
just a touch of kind.

Despairing at the range
of the indifference
of the offspring
they had loved.

Tales being spun that never
found the light of day.
As if they'd never
mattered anyway.

And it moves on.
One day upon another.
always running out
of time and usefulness.

In ages past, the elders spun
a magic in their secret solitude.
Now doctors give them pills
to entertain their sickly moods.

Society grown weirdly
out of sync.
Trembling upon the brink
until they cannot think.

Hanging on.
But never knowing why.
Reaching through the night
to touch the sky.

Bounded but unburdened.
Past the many
doleful sermons
learned in youth.

Unapproachable, it seems.
As if the best of all their dreams
had somehow drizzled out
of holes in others' ugly schemes.

So many tears.
Too many years.
Spent in the denial
of the fear.

Drawn face to face with demons
that were nurtured by
the empty spaces left.
Unrelieved. Beyond belief.

The doctors rarely looked
and never listened.
Prescribing yet more
chemical addiction.

Death might be a blessing.
But it always left them guessing
if all the pain they felt
might yet endure.

Beyond the borders of the mind.
Within the spirit world, now blind.
Just before the tension
broke them all...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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