Reminiscant Poetry

The clock struck twelve, the sound of the chimes causing my half-asleep body to jerk awake. My book of poetry had slid to the floor in that moment of slumber when my eyes nearly closed. I opened its pages to the reminiscant poem I was reading, its pages to newly tear-stained. I realized the sound of the clock was not what woke me, as I heard someone softly knowcking on the door of my apartment. I didn't wish anyone to see me in such a state, mummbling to myself about the visitor as I ignored the tapping.1

I sat in the plush chair, staring at the fire and remembering. The cold and dreary month of December seemed only yesterday as I watched the wood of my fire pop and listened to its crackle. I had sought refuge in the book, refuge from my own thoughts and greif. Greif I had for my lost Lena, gone from my arms forever. How beautiful and kind a woman she was, one of a kind. I often joked that the angels must have envied her, my Lena, gone forever from this world.2

My eyes turned to the purple rustling curtains, entranced by its shifting and causing me to think of nightmares never thought by mortals before me. To the beating of my heart I spoke, mistaking it in my immersion of thought to be the knocking on the door, "Just some late visitor and nothing more."3

I stood to turn them away, "Whoever you are, I'm sorry. Your knocking woke me and I thought that it was just a dream-" stopping as I peered into the hall to find nothing there. I stood there long moments, again thinking as the darkness seemed to swallow me. The silence was as deep as the darkness, and I whispered to myself softly, "Lena..."4

A tear was shed as the chaos in my soul began anew, tearing me apart as I closed the door and started away. Tapping was heard at my window, behind the curtain and calling my attention away from my inner workings yet again.5

"Surely there is something there, tapping on my window. I'll open it and 6

make sure, though it's probably just the wind."7

I opened the window to see a raven cawing and flapping, showing no respect at all as it flew past, to land on the statuette of a forgotten goddess of wisdom I had hanging above the door. He simply perched and sat and did nothing else. This nearly made me smile, lightening my sad state a little, from the overly serious image it made.8

"Although you seem less than majestic, you certainly aren't a coward, so boldy entering my home," I remarked. "Scary little raven straying from the shore. Tell me what your lordly name is on your home shore, your Majesty."9

I bowed, mocking the bird as it glared down on me. Then it cawed, which made me think perhaps I was insane for the caw sounded oddly like, "Nevermore."10

It spoke this word, or so I thought, surprise and confusion filling me, and such an odd word at that. I passed it off as nothing more then a trick of my mind. 'Nevermore?' I laughed to myself, realizing I must be hearing things because birds, of course, don't talk and surely no one had yet seen a bird by the stately name of 'Nevermore.'11

The raven no longer 'talked,' as though that was the only word with meaning. Nothing more it said, nor did he move at all after that. Seeing this as possibly one of my first visitor in ages, I thought out loud in barely more then a whisper, "Other freinds have left before-- tomorrow he will fly away, as have my hopes before."12

The bird cawed again, seemingly proof of my madness, "Nevermore." It spoke it well, humanly in fact and no longer something simply mistaken by my ears.13

"It must have been some previous goth of a master to teach the bird to say such a thing. Yes... someone who had come up on some bad luck and the songs of his hope vented that sadness of 'nevermore.'"14

But the raven still sat there, its dour expression still bringing me a smile. I wheeled my chair to the bird, sitting before it to further ponder what this ominous bird meant by saying 'nevermore.' So I sat there thinking, not speaking to the bird whos eyes seemed alight with fire that burned into my soul. This and more things I sat thinking of, leaning comfortably in my seat, the lamp light shining, my mind beginning to think of my lost Lena. 15

The air seemed to get a bit heavier, harder to breathe and I could almost smell a faint perfume and hear tinkling, as of bells adorning the feet of angelic feet as they ran over the carpeted floor. I sought to use the bird as a respite from my madness, calling out to it! "God must have given you to me, a respite from my sorrow of my lost Lena. Help me rid myself of this greif of my lost Lena!"16

Then said the raven, "Nevermore." 17

I grew frightened, realizing this raven would not give me help, that perhaps it was not heaven sent...18

"Prophet! Thing of evil-- whether bird or demon. Whether sent by the devil, or simply tossed here by the storm, here in my desolate desert of my own making. Tell me please! Is god real? Is heaven real? Please tell me!"19

"Nevermore," said again the raven, my anger at it growing as it refuses my questions.20

"Demon! Prophet of evil! By god and heaven above, tell me if within heaven is my sweet girl Lena-- my sweet and beloved girl who the cherubs named Lena."21

"Nevermore," spoke the raven, and I realized suddenly where my familiar surroundings were from. Stealing my eyes from the raven, I ran to grab the book of poetry from the chair, rifling through its pages to stare wide eyed at the words and whispering them to myself.22

"'Qouth the Raven, "Nevermore"'"23

Realizing death surely awaited me if this hellish bird stayed, I ran to the nearby dresser and opened the bottom shelf. I grabbed the gun sitting there and spun around, raising it to the bird. I was determined to shoot the thing if I couldn't make it leave. I shot a warning shot, the bird not even wincing as the bullet hit the goddess it sat on.24

"That is my warning, and my sign of parting, fowl apparation of evil!" I shreaked at it, now nearly shaking with fear, "Go away and never return. Don't leave so much as a feather here to remind me of your presence! Leave me to my lonliness and guilt, and get off my door. Take your sharp beak out of my heart and soul, and leave!"25

'Qouth the Raven, "Nevermore"'26

I squeezed the trigger, and as it hit I saw a flash of memory. In the Raven's place I saw Lena, I saw my bullet hitting Lena once more, my gun killing her once more. As the flash of memory passed and the bird thudded to the floor, through the blurr of my tears I didn't notice and still saw the dark form of the unmoving Raven above the door, my guilt reflected in every inch of its being. His dark shadow entwines with mine, my shadow of guilt as I raise the gun to my head, tears dripping on the floor. I give the gun a final squeeze, my soul mingling with the shadow of the Raven, Lena's shadow. My sould filled with guilt so heavy that it shall be lifted... 'Nevermore.' 27