Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

What the Day Said


As we began our journey the sun shone brightly.
My companions: the rusty remains of my trusty bike
And the emptiness that filled me.

The bike took me where it would.
Sailing down winding streets past a patchwork of houses.
Racing through the town where the music lived.
Then, it was off to the sea.

The bike stopped at a bench in the sand.
The respite of motion was murdered on cedar planks.
Now my eyes – long since dead – were forced to witness life.

Colorful umbrellas dotted the landscape, soon to fade.
Beautiful children played in the sand, soon to lose their innocence.
Blissful lovers hand in hand on the beach, soon to argue and part.
In the ocean was an old woman, her face haggard and drawn.
Once she was young and beautiful, vibrant and alive.
Now she stood alone and lonely in the vastness of the sea.

Presently, the bike found a well-worn path running along a busy road.
Flying now along the cobblestone to the beauty of a pond.
The seclusion of the place was not welcome. Still, the water drew me to its edge.
There, I pondered the reflection of an old man.
There, a lovely, lonely bird cried out in sorrow for his mate.
There, the old man nodded and turned away, a voice inside him muttering.

As the sun raced round, the bike moved slowly past mansions
Where loathsome creatures live with the ghosts of those they have wronged.
They pray desperately that no one will betray them with the truth.
Behind vine-covered walls, they know the solitude of the suspect.

Back along the road, the bike returned to the bench and the sea.
Then, the sun dropped from the sky and the afternoon died a fiery death.
Later, sitting in the fading light, my heart heard what the day had told.
I was not prepared for what it had to say.

The day said the old woman’s husband watched from the beach as she swam.
It said the bird’s mate waited just out of sight.
It argued that my loneliness was mine alone, not theirs, as I had hoped.
It said I longed to live among the hated creatures just beyond the manicured hedges.
It shouted that I, too, hid behind walls, alone and torn apart – and by choice!
Then, the day seared my soul with a burning truth.
It said that loneliness was my only friend because I feared life.
It held that Death would not be kind to me.
It whispered that my solitude was suspect.

 

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