The blackout

The curtain falls, the curtain draws across
Cutting off the blank wall, sealing out the groping dark -
I am alone again.

I mark time, cross it off on calendars,
Tick it in the pages of a diary;
Each day is much the same -
I am alone again.

I sometimes have the fire
Of hate and love and so desire
To try to set the world alight
But it passes with the night,
And by breakfast time I am
Prepared to eat my toast and jam
And stretch out hours on the rack
Until it's lunch, and then go back
To wait, and eat and say Amen -
I am alone again.

I have lost the fire,
Lost it along some motorway,
And my body is ashen,
And my heart is growing cold,
As I see in my reflection
That I am alone again.

The hermit, meditating on some god
Lives in a cell, his skin chafed
By cold and sack-cloth,
His lips silent save for prayer.
All I say is only to myself
For my God has gone away;
All that I can say is that
I am alone again.

"You are not alone: we feel much the same;
The curtains that are hiding you,
The darkness that is trapping you,
They will fade and then
We will see you once again:
We will try, will you?"
So say the books on the shelf
So say the letters in the drawer
So say the invitations on the desk
But my heart can only hear itself, pounding,
An endless rhythm, a lullaby in beat.
The dawn itself, the birds admit
That as I lie here, death-like, prone,
I am again alone.


Martin Locock, 1983