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Thread: A Country Home

  1. #1
    Registered User
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    Dec 2010
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    80

    A Country Home

    He had built, for her, a country home -
    for she had borne, for him, a son
    and she expected compensation
    for a duty so well done.
    An heir for him,
    a home for her -
    to roam at whim
    fields winds would stir
    and whip her loose hair
    as she ran
    alone and
    free
    across its land.
    He was not invited,
    neither was the child,
    she stayed out in the country
    for weeks, for months a-while
    and had her country clothes made
    in simple, charming lace
    and only a sash tied
    at her shrinking waist.
    She walked at sunrise through the dew,
    slept under trees throughout the noon -
    talked aloud to open skies
    with raised up arms and closed shut eyes.
    She kept a simple diet too,
    the household servants - old and few,
    her sleep was sound
    and undisturbed -
    this country home,
    this world of hers.
    It might have seemed, then, always that her life
    should be this way,
    but the child grew sick,
    so weak with it
    and soon he passed away.
    Her husband raged with grief,
    raged with resentment of her too
    and came up to the country home
    she'd never invited him to do.
    There he would torment her,
    following her through fields -
    sick and pale with sadness,
    screaming till she keeled
    over in the sodden mud -
    hands covering her ears
    drenched in rain,
    begging again
    he left through her own tears.
    That he should return back to the city
    she pleaded, she implored
    'Life has taken all my joy -
    and so why should you keep yours!
    Give to me a son again
    a child that's mine alone
    then, woman, and only when -
    you'll have your country home!'

    But could she bear anew this load?!
    The burden of a child...
    and wait,
    sick and tired, as it grew
    weighing her down from the inside.
    Labouring her flighty steps,
    labouring her light, short breaths
    - perspiring her in the sun,
    being watched closely by everyone!
    'No!' she cried -
    'No, I cannot! You had your heir,
    yours to protect -
    but negligent, and now he's gone
    I did it once, I can't forget!
    It stole from me all of myself,
    it bled and tore me at his birth
    and all for that, Sir,
    negligent - to waste your gift,
    accept your curse!'

    She ran off far, into the fields
    and stayed for hours at land's end
    hoping to hear the carriage wheels
    turn distantly - and only then
    would she return up to the house
    and lay herself down in her bed
    but walking back
    at sunset
    she saw flames and smoke instead.

    Copyright Yafeu-Khamisi Rodway-Brown

  2. #2
    Registered User tailor STATELY's Avatar
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    A sad tale well done.

    Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
    tailor
    tailor

    who am I but a stitch in time
    what if I were to bare my soul
    would you see me origami

    7-8-2015

  3. #3
    confidentially pleased cacian's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2011
    Location
    London
    Posts
    13,579
    an interesting lengthy piece albeit sad.
    it may never try
    but when it does it sigh
    it is just that
    good
    it fly

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