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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 6 of 6. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on July 19, 2004, at 11:51:13
Brittle
I sat, motionless,
Illuminated by the cellophane-blue light
Cast by the black-and-white television screen.
Reflections of actors darted and danced
Across the cavernous black pupils
Of my unblinking eyes
So dilated by medications
That the irises ringing the glassy, dark circles
Were reduced to pale blue eclipsed suns.Engines coughed violently
And sputtered to life amid dense fog,
As first one propeller whirled to life
And then its twin.
Rick told Ilsa they'd always have Paris
And for the thousandth time,
Their doppelganger images,
Projected onto human eyes
That had taken on the look of polished ebony,
Wavered and blurred
As I felt the familiar salty sting
Of eyelashes painted with 3 a.m. tears.I glanced from the ghostly images
Of those long dead
To the small piece of yellowed newspaper
Clutched between my restless fingers.
A photograph there captured
A young bride and groom,
Their eyes gleaming with the bright promise
Of rich, exciting lives awaiting them
Beyond the borders of the picture,
Of the world laid at their feet.We were so young, I thought,
So utterly fearless in that frozen moment,
Alyssa's hair forever catching the sunlight
As a single unruly blond curl
Dangled from the tiara of fresh flowers
Crowning her head.
But an illness
That seemed both merciless and unbeatable
Had later stolen the groom's Cheshire grin,
And the bride, her bouquet long wilted
Alongside her dreams,
Had tearfully left,
Finding herself married to a stranger
Who had not been present at the altar.
We would never have Paris.I held up the fragile slice of newsprint,
Crumbling at the edges from the acids
In the paper, and wondered again,
As Rick strolled down the tarmac
With Captain Renault at his side,
How something once so bright and white and new
Could be transformed
Into a shred of tattered papyrus,
So faded, so ancient, so brittle.
-- Atticus
Posted by sybils3facesofeve on July 20, 2004, at 9:43:58
In reply to poem ... Brittle, posted by Atticus on July 19, 2004, at 11:51:13
"As I felt the familiar salty sting
Of eyelashes painted with 3 a.m. tears"This is touching and profound....perfectly stated. Thank you.
Posted by B2chica on July 21, 2004, at 8:55:00
In reply to Re: poem ... Brittle, posted by sybils3facesofeve on July 20, 2004, at 9:43:58
I Second that sybils3. this part just hit me like a ton of bricks-it's like you saw me. i too feel this familiar sting.
Thank You Atticus.
B2c.> "As I felt the familiar salty sting
> Of eyelashes painted with 3 a.m. tears"
>
> This is touching and profound....perfectly stated. Thank you.
>
Posted by Atticus on July 21, 2004, at 19:58:33
In reply to Re: poem ... Brittle, posted by B2chica on July 21, 2004, at 8:55:00
You're very welcome (you too, Sybils3). This one's been kicking around the back of my head for a while. I'm glad it meant something to you. Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on July 27, 2004, at 19:20:52
In reply to poem ... Brittle, posted by Atticus on July 19, 2004, at 11:51:13
Oh my goodness....
a life still wanting to be lived.
That is so haunting and, as is your style, so well chiseled that I can feel it with my every sense.I mourn along side you for this bright dream/life that is now yellowed with time.
There's nothing worse than something promising cut short. We all lament the lose of someone precious....You have lost two people: yourself (as you knew yourself) and this woman. All of my Aunts and Uncles were sick on my mothers side of the family. Some where manic depressive others rage-a-holics yet another pickled in Gin. These were people who were around me all my life.A family tale for Atticus
I remember one snowless christmas eve I was hiding behind a couch waiting for my uncle to put the gun down.
He was on the porch looking for his wife who was shivering next to me.
We children held our breath as he turned to decend the cement stairs.
It was a bitter christmas.
His exhale lingered as a pale blue vapor.
Posted by Atticus on July 27, 2004, at 20:38:59
In reply to A family tale for Atticus, posted by Jai Narayan on July 27, 2004, at 19:20:52
Wow. That was stunning. A tale neatly cut and polished like a perfect gem. Thank God my family didn't own guns. I really like your ability to capture a scene with such deft strokes and precise language. Thank you for sharing such a powerful and frightening memory; it couldn't have been easy. Atticus
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