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The Cursed Heirloom
Contributed by
aliopterix
on
Thursday, 8th April 2010 @ 12:21:08 AM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
The Cursed Heirloom
I stare at the chair that I’d rescued from the rain
Take in the fabric with the horrible tobacco stain
They’d left it outside as they emptied the house
But I could not just leave it like an unloved spouse
There were too many memories, of happiness and pain.
It sits here now in my own little room
This insignificant object, ultimately a tomb
To the man who was my father, who died in that chair
His presence, so eerily still fills the air
But not with harmony just sadness and doom.
When mother had died he had sat in that chair,
So silent, so motionless, so full of despair.
At the wake they surrounded him offering sympathy
Yet none but his siblings could experience empathy.
He looked so old that day and beyond mental repair.
It was all so tragic when Christine followed my mother
Leaving one younger sister and an even younger brother.
Once more in the lounge the chair took centre stage
Embracing my father with high-winged arms wearing with age.
The furniture appeared to reach around him as if to smother.
We found him that day asleep in the chair
His eyes were open but he was no longer there.
The sleep we realised was the sleep of the dead
And as I stared at the scene my sister turned and fled
To be away from that place without caring where.
So they came in the morning and they emptied the flat
I could not assist but just smoked and I sat
Watching the contents of a life disappear into a van,
Objects and memories of an emotionally broken man.
Then the chair appeared and I was forced to interact.
It sits near the window by a small bonsai tree.
I know not whether I look at the chair, or it at me.
Above on the shelf are my father’s and sister’s ashes
And the three together provide me with regular flashes
Of times past when it was mum, dad and us three.
I choose not to share in its unkempt embrace
Just dust it occasionally, replacing some lace.
To sit in it now could become a macabre dare
An insinuation that my sister was no longer there.
So we wait, chair and I for someone to take their place.
Alistair Muir 07/04/2010
Copyright ©
aliopterix
... [
2010-04-08 00:21:08]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Cursed Heirloom
(User Rating: 1 )
by lesoleilnoire on
Thursday, 8th April 2010 @ 07:40:26 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| Very eerie piece! Reading it was ironic because I just got rid of a piece of old furniture and kind of miss it. I got my new couch today. I loved the way you told the story. It sounds so real--I hope it wasn't true. Again good poem. |
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Re: The Cursed Heirloom
(User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on
Sunday, 2nd May 2010 @ 09:35:40 AM AEST
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a Message)
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exquisite wicked good writing, alas i must add... get rid of the damn chair,
hugs n' love nessa |
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