Step Into the Carriage

“Step in to the carriage,”

Said the undertaker grimly.

“We want the thing to go without a hitch.”

My eyes searched the grayness

Frantically for One who might come

Save me, but mine the only

Power within: To go along? Or bitch?

Time seemed frozen for me—

A favor from the universe,

Allowing time to process and to think.

All of this seemed to me

The product of me playing nice,

And the better choice now: to raise a stink!

Remember how we played

Together in love as children?

We reveled for hours on end without a fuss.

Agreement lifted us

Out of the fallen world below

To a place where there was

No “Mine!” or “No!” But only “Ours,” and “Yes.”

And then the cookie cutters came,

Wielding sharpened edges,

Flashing their bladed ends about,

Threatening our formless dough.

They didn’t like our happiness,

Or our lack of structure,

And so the gooey extras had to go.

Oh the things we should never say!

Never do THAT again!

Lists we must never think about!

The things we didn’t know!

Terrible, naughty child I was,

Enjoying my life like a walkabout!

Serious matters lay around

For me to learn and do.

And so I let them lead me out—

My paradise imagination,

Into the world of nuts and bolts,

Technology and drive.

Sadly I looked back as I left

My heavenly little garden,

And you, my Muse, followed in tears,

Trying to stay alive.

Attempts to stay together then

Were but shadows on the doorstep—

Quick hidden kisses at sunrise,

Meeting at night in my dreams.

But all attempts to bring you out

And show you off— stifled,

By the corporate mentality—conform,

And competing feasibility schemes.

Then the evil witch saw her chance

For the final kill shot.

She saw you lonely and vulnerable,

Unappreciated, under used.

She drew you in with a promise,

But she took her knife and stabbed you

Dead, made a widow of my Soul.

But this damned funeral—no!

Refuse to take it lying down!

I can’t accept the realness of your death.

If one thing in this world were true,

It was your immortal nature,

And I can’t let them bury you

Without seeing if any breath

Might still be swirling there within.

I break from the mortician’s grasp!

I find a strong iron bar and prize the casket top away!

Decorum iconoclastically smashed!

People scurrying everywhere—

Whispering, and gawking.

I see you in there smiling at me,

Alive, and ready to play.

Come, my Muse! Together let’s be

Forever more and never part.

I’ve forgotten all they ever taught me!

But it is fitting, we should play,

And frolic, gambol, and cavort!

Open my eyes again, Love,

Again let me fully see.

--jenn long