A Prose Poem On A Day of Mourning

Dusk. I am sitting here watching a silver crane fly by, echoing my desperation with his mournful, hopeful call as his bright feathers catch the setting sun and he is mirrored in the river's patient flow. Reflections are hard to make out when you do not recognize what stares back at you.

Can it be possible?

Is it he?

This crane who calls to me alone?

When they try to reason, I reject it. I debate back, I argue, I rage and threaten. Finally exhausted,  no longer capable of continuing despite the desire to fight their resistance, I capitulate. 

 If only to stop the clamor. I pretend to believe them. 

I feign accepting their pacifying platitudes.

I covertly breed rebellion in my heart.
.

The crane repeatedly calls, and I wonder...If I fall to my knees and beg a boon of him, will he carry a message to you, my Love? 

Will you hear me?

Will you finally respond?

Can you?

Will I hear it if you do? It is too loud here. I sit here in my white linen sangfu and headpiece, trying to listen to the weeping crane. These people, with their useless good intentions, will not keep silent and their insistent, hushed voices take up all the quiet I seek. 

Shut up! 

I must listen!

The crane is speaking!

They are insidious and ignorant of my need to avoid their thick, choking incense, sad praises of the fallen, and those endless, depressing chants.

The deafening clang of their funeral gongs.

The food they bring fills my throat and I want to gag. 

I want to throw myself on the pyre in absolute despair. 

Worried, they fuss until I cannot breathe as they suck all the air out of my room. When they leave, they turn the lock to protect me from my self. I respond by barricading my door and my heart.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

 You are not wanted. This time is mine, alone. How dare you try to share it. I am denned up, mortally wounded, and you do not see it. Leave me in peace, for I refuse to be saved. Go away, I have a missive to write.

"My beloved.

Please wait. Linger on this plane, a bit more. 

I have tossed away the lessons of my youth. I no longer believe that a haunting is necessarily wrong or evil. Not if it can bring solace to the one being possessed. 

I would be strong enough to face a future I no longer need if only your shade remains by my side. If ghostly fingers can cradle mine for just a few hours, stolen from the reapers of time. 

If I can continue to taste phantom lips on mine. 

If a sibilant laugh can cheer my heart .

If your smooth, gossamer voice can say, ' Lan Zhan, I love you," just once more.

Please heed this last message to you. 

Stay with me for one final night, and when the first light breaks the sky, and you must leave, take me with you, arm in arm. 

I cannot be left behind again. 

If the gods do not allow it, so be it. I will refuse all food and water. I will sit on this pillow and shelter within myself. 

I will cross these old legs and close these tired eyes that have finally seen the last of the glory allowed to me in this lifetime.

Let me follow the silver crane. Let me fly along the river with him once more. 

After all, he is you and I have always followed when you beckoned to me. 

My silver-eyed beauty. 

My Piper. 

My wild Wei.

My Love."