(Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve.
But I am the opposite of a stage magician.
He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth.
I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion”)
― Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie
The Sisters Remember
My sister’s dream began on a hillside.
Having no idea where she was
she stumbled through a black forest,
caught her lace nightgown on a dead branch,
came to an open field of weeds.
Barefoot and alone
she walked forever under cloudy skies,
jumping over mud holes and daubers,
scanning the distance for anyone alive.
Suddenly visible stood a barren stage.
She hesitated at the strangeness
but had nowhere else to go.
As she approached the wooden scaffold
she noticed several rows of velvet chairs
unoccupied, but waiting.
She sat first row, front-center.
On the stage were also chairs
An array of golden benches
seemingly strung together by rope,
empty and alert.
All at once out of the curtained wings
the actors came forward.
Each one bowed before sitting,
saluting my sister.
Each one was someone she knew.
Each actor a departed luminary
who bought their light to the stage,
who acted out the play book
of timeline characters
and tragic goodbyes.
There are no goodbyes.
The troupe on stage was whole
and accounted for,
soul-beings of her glorious past.
The director’s light entered the arena
just as my sister stood up to leap forward
the curtain fell
pattyv
This is stunning, Patty, along so many dimensions. What a way to salute your sister.
Yes, Betsy, this was actually a collaboration, since my sis sat with me when I wrote it.
Thanx for another of your intriguing poems Patty!
This especially moved me because I lost a sister to a devastating illness … among other gifts, she was a wonderful poet.
Losing a sister must be a lifetime longing for a reunion that will surely come. That she was close to you was such a gift. Leaving her poetry her words.
Thank you for reading mine.
Thanx Patty, I’ve written about my sister Laurie here on Retro and elsewhere and it was cathartic.
I found a lot of the imagery really powerful and lyrical, even if I wasn’t sure how to interpet them. For instance, “caught her lace nightgown on a dead branch,” and “golden benches seemingly strung together by rope. ” Thanks for this offering.
Dale, the imagery pops up and I often scramble to express it. I actually think it comes somewhere from beyond, thank you for thanking me.
If this was indeed the dream your sister had, it was remarkable. If it is something you invented, it is even more remarkable and full of love in either case. Thanks.
Yes indeed K, it was a dream. A powerful one, one both my sis and I never forgot. I tried to capture it exactly the way it happened. It confirmed my believe we are actors on a stage, or in today’s words – avatars in a simulation.
I think that this piece is made all the more interesting for me by what I don’t know (which is everything) but must imagine.