Lystrata

On the outer edge of darkness,

On the other side of sleep,

And beyond the mist, the starkness

Of the landscape makes me weep,

For Lystrata, like a phantom

Glides and shimmers through the trees,

As her hair trails out behind her

At the slightest subtle breeze.

 

But the sun has not yet risen

So the shadows there are dim,

And the voices in the distance

Mutter words that sound like ‘R.E.M.’,

But Lystrata leads me further

Through that one repeating myth,

Where we leave the trees behind us

At the stark edge of the cliff.

 

I can hear the breakers rolling

On the beach, so far below,

As Lystrata turns toward me,

Cries forever: ‘Now you know!’

But I reach on out to touch her

Almost blinded by my tears,

When her shadow fades before me

As she turns, and disappears!

 

And I’m driving through the night

Toward some future, cold and bleak,

With her sitting close beside me

Though we very rarely speak,

While the anger and the hurt has

Ravelled, rabid at my brain,

When she said: ‘You know it’s over!’

Then I knew - I was insane!

 

For the darkness closed around me

On that narrow strip of road,

And this dream that would confound me

Kept repeating, like some ode,

That the world had somehow narrowed

To the pinpoint of a beam,

So I swerved into the darkness

And I heard Lystrata scream!

 

There are phantoms moving greyly

At the other side of sleep,

And their voices still dismay me

As I make that final leap,

For ‘How long?’ would seem to echo

And re-echo through my tears,

As another phantom whispers:

‘Well, it’s all of twenty years!’

 

And Lystrata stands before me

As the blood runs down her face,

‘Once you said that you’d adore me,

But you leave me little grace!’

Then she leaves me in the darkness

And the mist, for me to weep,

At the outer edge of darkness

On the other side of sleep!

 

David Lewis Paget

Author's Note

To make this piece a little more transparent, the narrator has been in a coma for twenty years, after driving himself and the love of his life over a cliff. The hints are R.E.M. - rapid eye movement, and the doctors' conversation by his bed - 'How long,' - 'Well, it's all of twenty years.'

Reviews

[Delilah Campbell]

Bravo my friend, That wasn't just a mere poem, that was a short story with just the right detail and emotions that left me wanting more.

I loved this...

And Lystrata stands before me
As the blood runs down her face,
‘Once you said that you’d adore me,
But you leave me little grace!’
Then she leaves me in the darkness
And the mist, for me to weep,
At the outer edge of darkness
On the other side of sleep!

Thanks for sharing David. I will look for more from you.
Delilah

[MOON]

Poignant write , lyrical and the short heartbreaking story of crimes of passion and their consequence.

[roarke]

the deep sleep of a coma, a shuddering thought. Insanity also can be considered a kind of coma. This is quite a mixture, limbo, purgatory, a never ending nightmare. Chilling stuff.

[Forgotten]

This was excellent, there was no point throughout this that I found myself feeling bored. I am astonished at your talent and can only hope I can ever produce work close to yours. I love the fact it felt more like a tale than a poem. Thank you for the amazing poem.

[Valentine]

What a dream...and with no happy eending..I would have been glad to wake up..Another great taale within a tale..love them all..God bless Lyn and You,,Katihe

[Adam M. Snow]

A tremendous poem indeed

[Marie]

And Lystrata is a weeping ghost forever...