Derek M. Ferguson
Into The Light
It had been a long time coming
a lifetime in fact
of shadow, soft retreat, words carefully chosen
of hungry eyes lingering a little too long
a small world of stolen consolations and smaller pleasures
Different times the youngsters said, words dropping carelessly
Easy for them, I thought as I pierced the cellophane dinner
the knife, its tip so close to where I thought my heart might be
And then I met him
no more a mean meal for one, but finally a banquet
now offered up on an exquisite plate,
its pattern of blooms spreading reckless joy
the idea of picking them took my breath
back to my alien place
to fill a solitary vessel to turn towards this sun
but die slowly from their wounds
Then the voice in me began
quiet to begin with
words elusive, places strange
slipping away, like the spring soil through my fingers
like the keys I could no longer work in the lock
like the names of the flowers I’d forgotten
now the voice was getting louder
It’s Huntington’s* the doctors scream
I flee back home and pull the drawbridge up forever
and leap the final yard eyes shut
and as the door is opened, the rush of light bursts out
My world, and try to catch its breath within the tremor of my hand
He looks into my eyes and says
We’ll go together and I will hold you
and then I know that this new land holds wonders too
and he is keeper of the precious memories
and when I lose my way and flowers begin to fade
he will reach inside me
then take the bloom into his hands, his world, my world
and tend it safe
*Huntington’s is an inherited, incurable, progressive, neurodegenerative disease