malady and despair

edgar münch, the sick child

(title poem of a work in progress)

the sun has come back
from its holiday
it is shining on
the glory tree
outside my window
greening its leaves
with photorays
more life for
the indefatiguable world

i rest pathetically in
my dark room
my faded curtains
let in a bit of light
my tired eyes
my faulty wiring
the rum-rum
under my skin
disfigures everything

yet there is no one
to see and thus
my transfigurement
in the light
never takes place
i'm like the little child
too shy for the world
who keeps safe in spite
of her loneliness

soon it will be dark
and the cold air
will enter the
veins of the house
my fever will turn
to ice and chill
there are socks and scarves
and an old gray sweater
at the end of my bed

i will put them on
and lay down
perchance to dream that
there is love
the hero's quest
as it was
before the blitzkrieg
before illness came
and took everything

i am too tired to
continue writing
the light is now
muted late afternoon
the only sounds i hear
are the churning fans
and a few cars on
the highway above
going home

i'll say goodnight
before you go
i'm still polite in the
face of my demise
i've put my light face on
with a few lines
i've shown i am still
alive even though
there is no desire

goodnight, goodnight
i feel no sorrow
in saying it
tomorrow we begin again
to follow the sun
from east to west
moving from light to shadow
and seeking transcendence
over malady and despair