The Nelligan Review

Raindrops grey,
Fall slow,
Land soft
Upon the ground;
I watched from my window
As the rain came down;
By afternoon,
The yard was
A shallow lake;
Nubile grass,
Soft and wavy,
Waded in the water,
Basked in the cool
And, in a sudden,
Turned toward me,
Summoned me,
Demanded that I
Walk the yard,
Breathe the air,
Step across
That newborn pond
And join the world
But I refused:
I cannot leave my room;
I don’t know why
But I just can’t leave.

If you love me,
Don’t come by
To draw me out;
There’s nothing you can do
To get me past the door;
I am captive
To an unforgiving gravity
That rises from within.

My work is done,
My calendar is clear,
No problems to solve;
I have no reason
To sit at a desk
With nothing to write
For hours at a time
Or stand by the window
Like some old sentry,
But I am too afraid
To venture out,
Cross the yard
And take my place
Among the living;
I have a purpose
That I can’t discern
And can hardly describe,
Some critical cause
That I don’t understand,
Nebulous and vague
Yet unrelenting;
I surrender to it everyday
Without knowing
What it is.

The ceiling
Is my only sky
And the only music
I care to hear
Is the silent sonata
Of empty rooms;
I am restrained
By a confounding tether
That runs relentless
Through my consciousness;
It holds me close
And won’t let go;
I need you to know,
For what it’s worth,
That I will not stray
Beyond these walls;
I will stay where I am
For as long as I can,
I just can’t leave.