Bound to narrow themes

No matter what it seems was what she said,
no matter how it hurts – there are always
disappointments. The life she planned was
bound to narrow themes, to rigid shapes
and structures lent to old ideas; and where she
went the vistas thus remained extant for years.

Disillusionment was nothing new, discontent
a fever to be borne – a compliment to moments
when the Heaven’s blessed us with a heady shower
of dangled wares. Our eyes expressed our disbelief,
no largesse was ever sent without a cost, and cost
was evident but not relief from insincere intent.

Follow me, she said, and cited texts from dry
and dusty tomes bereft of magic and enchantment.
We struggled to accept the books she left,
we read them carefully and thought of dragons,
elves and fairies under double moons in fabled skies,
were demonised and living cautious in our double lives.

Bear with me, she said, and lashed us with the
cane of tortured temperament, stand up and
look your master in the eye. I stood and wore
her approbation, this boy will lead she surely lied,
take heed and follow in his step. I cried, in anger
said I wouldn’t lead, and neither would be lead.
© I.D. Carswell