Purgatory Paradise

Drawing by Arif de Boer

Everyone's dressed up for some show,

I try to ask since I don't know,

Flock of folk furthering fast

Can't tell who's first, can't tell who's last.

Where am I? Something’s gone wrong?

The line, strung and stretched so long,

Can barely fit in front of my eyes.

Then one of large and taller size,

Turns and screams with all his heart

"Hurry up, the Big Bang's about to start!"

Voices, voices all around,

Traveling, at the speed of sound:

"Hasn't this happened once before?"

The other one, mad, tries to ignore,

With his ears cupped by his hands

"Shut up, don't tell me how it ends!"

People dancing, singing, crying,

I guess the large man wasn’t lying,

The end was soon approaching.

Their sky started to crumble

As the sun began encroaching.

The ground trembled beneath,

As if the Earth grinded its teeth

A blasting noise split the air

One final surge, a lucid stare,

But no one seemed wistful.

Somehow, it all felt peaceful.

Most had kneeled, fully submitted,

Those who did, appeared dim-witted.

There was nothing to be feared,

The silence broke, everyone cheered.

A feeble one screeched from afar,

I was surprised it had a voice,

And of all the words there are,

These were his first choice:

“Today, Time was born

And with it, us too.

Life and Death are both anew

Today, the world began

And with it, us as well.

What the future has in plan,

Well, only Time can tell…”

Successful was his fable,

As everyone was laughing,

This place may be their cradle,

But it might be my coffin.

The queue began dismembering, the crowd dispersed,

Everyone went back to their place, as if it were rehearsed.

What I’d thought to be a defining event,

Seemed routine, an afternoon well spent.

Once lost, now truly stray,

I must begin to find my way.

But on my silent hill I hear,

The sound of drapes fluttering near

I catch a glimpse of softness white

Another soul, to my delight.

One faint figure left behind,

May be ruthless, may be kind,

I am hoping for the latter,

Her face filled my mind with chatter.

Daughter born without intention,

Against all odds was her conception,

Her beauty like a fiercely blaze,

I simply couldn’t move my gaze.

She seemed both deity and demon.

My thoughts couldn't travel far,

Cause soon her lips became ajar:

"I see you're walking oh so lonely,

Let me be your Cicerone!"

“I have patience but I won’t plea”

I was surprised that she could see me.

“Accept my offer, I insist.”

It turns out…I do exist.

In one move she turned so swift

With her gown blowing adrift.

The Cicerone departed,

…and so her tour started.

I grew to learn she wasn’t a talker

But surely a speedy walker.

I kept close, followed her shadow,

And found ourselves deep in a meadow.

“When I first came here, I was like you”

She said to me, stumping on through.

“I can’t say I loved it here.

There was something I held dear.

I forgot what I used to yearn,

But love is something you can unlearn”

Her words seemed for herself to hear.

Wishing to forgo a tear,

I bent down, ripped out a lily,

Hoping she won’t find it silly.

With the stem tight in my palm

She winced at it, but said with calm

“I won’t advise you what to do,

But I’m not the one you should tend to”

My only wish was that she’d like me.

I thought of asking what she meant,

But the moment was already spent.

What I’d like to tell her though,

Is that my breath is getting narrow.

But I sensed no time to rest,

We were heading to the forest.

The chance that she would wait,

Just wasn’t written in my fate.

We arrived and stepped within,

“Fresh air! Breathe it in!”

I wish I could…

“Don’t you love the scent of wood?”

She was right, what could I say?

Branches in frenetic sway,

Beautiful in all the ways,

Through the trees, a sunny glaze.

“Traveler, where do you come from?

Every dweller has their slum.”

I knew intrigue would find its way,

To pull my tongue, to make me say:

“Truth be told, I do not know.”

Her fast pace, now became slow,

And for a newly first time

Suddenly, her eyes met mine.

“You mean to tell me you’re a vagrant.”

She said it as if it’s something flagrant.

“I mean to say I don’t recall

If I ever had a home at all.”

Her face released its subtle tension

And then posed me another question:

“Will you stay adrift forever?

Or until you can remember?”

No purpose or aim in mind,

I have no idea of any kind,

Where I’m from, where I will go,

All I could think was “I don’t know”.

She could tell I had no reply,

So she smiled and walked on by.

All the while I felt more sick,

“Hurry up and come here quick!”

She yelled to me, far out of sight,

I limp to her, my chest is tight,

I limp to her, my legs are sore,

It’s becoming harder to ignore.

On a leaf and sleeping nicely,

Dressed in silk and tucked in tightly,

“Gorgeous being”, I quietly sigh

… soon to be butterfly.

"I never understood a split path:

Is it a nymph? A measly moth?

To stay dormant and inept,

Something I just can't accept.

And to think they’re blessed with wings

And waste them on sleep…of all things."

By the time I began to understand,

She already had the shell in hand.

She squeezed it tight between her fingers

The awful sound still awfully lingers

The poor maggot in its cocoon...

"It takes too long, it should fly soon"

The Cicerone quite scared me…

"Cicerone, they're meant to sleep!"

I yelled to her, holding back a weep.

“A butterfly’s a long-winded wonder

To rush it, is a foolish squander”

“You think the world can just stand by?

Till the worm decides to fly?

Then you must really be a fool,

To think you can lead by your own rule."

Static eyes, her gaze was frozen,

Her words seemed too well chosen.  

I wish we’d stop, for my heart’s sake,

But she’s walking to the lake.

Tender limbs and body aches,

I wish I knew how long this takes…

But it will go, the end is due,

I just have to make it through.

The lake gleamed like winding brass,

I laid my bones heavy in the grass,

Another step would be too cruel.

A painful pulse bounced in my skull.

And in my ears, a stinging tone.

What is this world I’m being shown?

"Can you hear? The birds are singing.

Oh, I forgot your ears were ringing."

How did she know? Could she always tell?

That I was in pain, not feeling well?

The fledglings swarmed above us both

Humming their melodic oath,

My eyes bathed in all their color,

I am awaiting the next horror.

“Traveler, I think you’re done.

I surely hope you had some fun!

But in this moment you must decide,

Is it here where you’ll reside?”

Her face mirrored in the pond,

I can tell she’s making sound,

But the voice is drenched and dampened,

My senses have left me abandoned.

With every moment that by passes,

I feel like I'm drowning in molasses,

And it's seeping in my ears.

Maybe I’ll rest here for years,

Like a beetle stuck in amber,

Out of which it cannot clamber.

“Listen here and mark these words,

You are caught between two worlds.

Will you be off on your way soon?

Or are you also stuck in a cocoon?”

The green beneath bedded me well.

As if it wanted me to dwell,

As if this is where I’ve always been

Dragonflies caressed my skin,

Pale and thin and iridescent.

Somehow, it all felt pleasant.

The Cicerone, indeed, was true,

My choice soon will be overdue,

Ever since the day I was born,

I have felt this endless torn.

My path is settled…finally

And this place has compelled me,

With its beauty or its guile.

"I think I'll stay here for a while."

The Cicerone was now appeased,

Or maybe mad, angry, displeased,

After all, it doesn’t matter,

If it’s the first, or if it’s the latter.

Her speech, she wished to prolong,

And felt the need for an epilogue:

 “A place so old it's been forgotten,

Once young and fresh, now fully rotten;

With beauty and endless breadth,

Just enough to take your breath.

Before you stay, do think twice,

Welcome to Purgatory Paradise.”