Monsters

Sirens

Sirens

Last night my dreams were haunted by a song.

Awake now, I cannot recall the words,

but all the world would dance in common time

If only they could hear it. At its heights

the melody would soar, and as it fell

it held me close, it gently laid me down.

I try in vain to write the structure down

but it evades me. My concentration breaks. This song

has me possessed; in one fell

swoop its hook is in my brain, worms in my ears, words

stick in my chest. The bar is set, musical heights

to which I must climb. Lord, give me strength. Give me time.

It swells in my ears again, lighter than air, and I recall a time

spent breathing in the atmosphere above the Yorkshire Down

on Brontë walks. And how apt those words seem now from Wuthering Heights:

It’s always, always in my mind; I am this song!

Don’t talk of our separation again. Your words

would only irritate, like tinnitus, ringing in the ears on which they fell.

That day, the sheep stared from their graze on the fell.

Now, I stare at the wall. I don’t know how much time

passes, but I still can’t find the words.

I force myself to leave the flat, walk down

to the cliffs; the sharp sea air might clear my head. But now the song

is stronger. I hear it in the rush of the waves, the wind in the heights.

They’ve never been my forte, heights,

but on this day I feel that, if I fell,

I would be borne upward by the song

And drift among the clouds for a time.

Perhaps I would never need to come down;

But my actions now drown out my words.

I can almost make out the harmony, the words,

the strain, but from these heights

there is no way but down.

The birds around me squawk, fell

voices in the air, and for the first time

I can’t hear it, the rushing wind blots out the song-

I was there when he came down; watched, helpless, as he fell.

They found words left before he jumped from the heights,

wishing that, in time, we all would hear the sirens’ song.