…through the chambers of us

Again, I descend
the spiral staircase of loss
where the whispers
of my memories
linger in the shadows
I feel it winding around me
like a deadly serpent
consuming both the past
and the future
I am walking barefoot
through the chambers of us
the windows and floors
cobwebbed and cracked
the air is thin here
and I feel you less and less

step, after step, after step
at each imaginary landing
a mirror waits for me
and in each of them
I catch a brief
glimpse of myself
becoming
a little more blurred
a little more made of breath
than bones
and as I near the last step
I do not know
if I will emerge into light
or into another spiral
into endless darkness

but still, one hand on the rail
I take another step
into the great unknown
for I carry this grief
like Atlas carried the sky
it arches over me
vast and filled with stars
and my spiral staircase
carries me away
with each turn
your face fades
and I hope that the weight
becomes lighter
but the air still carries
the fragrance of you
a trick of sorrow

I pass the same window
again and again
outside, a moonlit night
trees silvered with frost
each branch, a hand reaching
that will never, ever touch
just as we, will never touch again
through the endless years
even apart, we descend together
each footfall, echoes twice
once for me, and once
for the shadow of you
beside me

circling, I lose you
in revolutions
and turn after turn
I circle downward
as the world narrows
to a pinhole
a pupil dilated in the dark
as I watch us both
as we disappear
into the void
where memories
become a mirage
© Ann Bagnall