The Others
Part I
III
"Why am I here, sister?" Pit asked,
"And should I be here or do I must?"
Yet what "here" meant, they were
Not sure, and so she didn't answer.
And that was enough, he thought,
For he got the reaction he sought,
Which did confirm the uncertain.
Loo was right behind the curtain
That night as he, after thirty days
Of pondering the metalled ways
He and she were living, unmoving,
Unloving, ay, consumed by nothing,
Dared externalizing
His change of faith.
"Ô hush now, hush!" she whispered
Suddenly, to the light that flickered
Wickedly in Pit's light brown eyes
That looked candid, unable of lies,
To a sisterly eye that dared not blink.
"Question me not, just listen and think,
For I shall give you what to think of,
And how to think of it, you aren't free
Remember we're not two and not three
And will be one day minutely judged.
But to prove to you I hold no grudge
I will tell you every night half a story
So your seclusion won't be desultory."
Then silence descended and with it
An unseen presence; it could be felt
Perhaps by Loo who her eyes rolled
And seated herself next to the cold,
Near freezing, marble-white feet of
Pit, whose wide eyes looked above
The locked door where were cracks.
The candle, wick and paraffin wax,
Was now lit for the book was open
Yet both Pit and Loo were hoping
For opposite things.
YOU ARE READING
The Others
Poetry"They deceived us, and deceived themselves, the quiet-voiced elders, bequeathing us merely a receipt for deceit." said Loo, feeling almost all-knowing, almost sorry, once she reached the end of Four Quartets, wondering when her story shall begin. An...
