Saturday, January 18, 2020

Where the Candles Never Burn

He made me live in a dark house
With all these candles
We weren’t allowed to light

I could come and go
As I saw fit

Nobody was trapping me
Nobody was saying ‘Don’t’

Several times a year
I would walk to my cousin Jane’s house
And back again
And he wouldn’t say a word

But while we were at home
There was no light

I used to tease him
About being a creature of cruel intent
And he would take the jokes lovingly

He was not a bad man
Nor angry
Nor harmful

Never would a violent expression
Cross his face

But he had some aversion
To the daytime
And he admitted that it worried him
Because he knew how unwell it is
For a man--or anyone, really
To spend so much time
Closed off and shut away
From the providing sun

One day he got cross
With himself, not with me
And he said ‘We shall go out today’
And I felt glad
I felt very glad
Because I thought it would be
A turning point for us

But once outside
He got a tremendous chill
And a coughing spasm struck him
And we had to bring him back in at once
The servants and I
Then wait for a doctor
Who diagnosed him as having
A rather mysterious illness
That seemed to mostly subside
Once he was back in his bed
With dark cloth hung
Over all the windows

Not given to superstition
I sought out a reason
For my husband’s troubles

My father was a man of science
And didn’t stand for talk of anything
That wasn’t pragmatic or tangible

Even speaking of morality
Would send him into a fit
And my sisters and I were not permitted
To go to church
Or giggle frightfully
At scary stories late at night
Under our covers

We were taught to believe in only
What could be seen
And touched

My husband’s pallor was not pale
His teeth were not sharp
And a cross hung directly over his bed
With no effect at all
On his demeanor

There was no bad in him
I can assure you of that

But the daylight
Any kind of light, really
It did--

Well

Even the most tempestuous
Of villains
Has no objection
To the light of a candle
And yet--

Yet even those
We could not burn

We, those of us in that house,
Myself and the servants
And eventually
The children

Learned to navigate our way
Through the darkness

Even when my husband
Was tucked away in his room
With the doors closed
He could tell if a single flame
Was lit anywhere
Within the house

The screams he would pour forth
Would shake the walls
And we would all go hunting
For whatever crack had let in
A ribbon of sunshine

We got very good
At finding the light
Only to extinguish it

Throughout all this
I loved him

Oh, I loved him
Very much

And so I learned
To live without

Which is how I learned
You can live without
Just about

Anything

No comments:

Post a Comment