Saturday, March 2, 2013

Havisham Revisited


The layer of dust that lies on the table
Seen not by the eyes which are no longer able
To tell real from imagined, or cold fact from fiction.
She sees his ghost daily: her private affliction.

No change can be made, no fix,  no repair.
She sits now alone and in silent despair
Drinks to the past and the one here no longer;
Loss not accepted does not make one stronger.

As are the roses her soul has been wilted
Long years ago by his death was she jilted.
No strangers can help, they are not allowed in
To the sacred domain come only the kin.

Her Pip, her Estella, the two she controls
Should bend to her will, remain in their roles.
But they must conspire in order to save her
Be it not that they will remain in her favor.



© 2013 Carolyn Cannon

4 comments:

ronstew said...

Lovely poem. My family has been through those issues more than once, and it is never easy.

Baledwr said...

I'm glad I'm not totally confused by this, but made sad nonetheless.

Carolyn's Mom said...

And I do so try not to be sad, but to treasure the memories.

C-Myste said...

Of course you know that's not about you. Sadness is a part of life, for better or not. Does it honor the memory of the lost one to quit living when they perish? A young friend not to long ago said that she wanted a love affair that did not end in sadness. I replied that I daresay they always do, for one of the partners.