Would willfully weep a great and heavy sigh,
Whilst I trod to take my place, I slightly quickened my lowly pace,
I knew only that I must try, to fulfill my duty lest I die.
“Duty bound,” I whispered, “I must comply -
To do my duty, lest I die.”
Patricia seems to look out, as if into a fog-filled night, squinting to see what lay ahead, with determination and resolve impressed upon her features.
I crouched there in the murky soup awaiting the time to recoup,
A fraction of acceptability.
Little, though, was I to know, the velvet curtains soon would draw closed,
And loves last lingering would be lost, lost to days of yore.
Oh, would that things could be the way they were before!
It’s all lost to days of yore.
Patricia looks out over a vast expanse towards the horizon past the audience, her face melting into a look of great despair and yearning for intercession, her hands clasped to her chest.
I glanced up over the high spiked gate, waiting the time that I must wait,
Then scrabbled scaling skywards towards the wall.
Once atop the granite tower, I paused peering, squinting downwards,
Looking o’er the vast expanse, I saw nothing that should cause distress.
The fog itself was no distress, it hid me in its soft caress,
There was nothing there- just emptiness.
Patricia pretends to climb a series of vertical bars, looking up into the sky; then, crouching atop a wall, peers, scanning out over a vast sea of fog.
As I deftly descended down, my handhold broke and with a frown,
I struggled with the hold as it tore free.
Swiftly sailing up to meet me, came the ground and oh, how sweetly
Did my body rush to embrace that plain of earth,
Slowly crumpling did my body greet the earth,
This just the beginning of my dearth.
Patricia acts as though she is losing her grip, then leans back, looking at the piece of mortar in her hand, twisting and falling onto the floor, skillfully.
Once inside I was now free, to meet my goal, to go and see
The missing monkeys I’d been tasked to find.
Just a touch to cage and door, my mind illumined, then once more,
All would be finished, my burden done, my chore complete
That’s all I wanted- to have my chore complete.
The ground then rumbled- trembling, beneath my feet.
Patricia gets up with her back to the audience, then she looks to the ground, and her head turns slowly around, her black- lined eyes widened dramatically in fear.
The largest eyes you’d ever seen then pounced on me, I held my scream,
And pulled my lifeless limb from ‘neath its jaws.
Blood beckoned burning from my bones, my speed increased, my senses honed,
That thick, warm fog that hid me, that welcomed me, was now my foe.
It curtained me, enveloped me, ensnared me, that nameless foe,
Where exit lay I did not know.
Patricia‘s arm yanks her 5 feet across the stage, before she rips it free; the arm falls helplessly to her side.
I ran blindly, groping, seeking, refuge from pursuing beastling,
Away from razor claws and baited breath.
Then from the fog a silhouette, a gated entrance I had met,
As I lept upon caged doors- with a padlock it was held fast,
Escape… denied, from a simple padlock that held it fast.
Death’s dark shadow had come at last.
Patricia grips an invisible cage door rattling it, only to look down with disappointment to see the lock firmly holding it shut.
Renewed fury then did claim me, with one good fist I hammered vainly,
Against the simple lock that held my key.
Stabbing, striking to be free, each bloody blow struck back at me,
Shredded, severed, sliced asunder, as beast into me tore.
‘Til metal breached and crumpled, twas no more.
I hurled myself through open door.
Patricia pounds at the padlock with her one good arm fiercely, wincing visibly as her jabs strike with each hammering blow. She finally falls forward.
One would think I had survived, with renewed hope I sought to strive,
To make my way from tigers deadly den.
From the pan into the fire, I found that then I was now mired,
Powerless, prostrate, prone- I could not move.
No will was left for me to move.
A feeble joke for fate to prove.
Patricia starts to crawl, then stops, unmoving, except for her recital.
I lay there empty, mute, alone, my body quiet like a stone,
As memories of times past did pass me by.
Then in sorrow, moveless, weeping, of my sin I was now reaping,
Loves last lingering had been lost, lost to days of yore.
Oh, would that things could be the way they were before!
It’s all lost to days of yore.
Patricia’s still, unmoving body along with the accompanying silence is startling. Then, slowly, a single tear forms in one eye, as it accumulates and begins to flow down her cheek, until it gathers, then drops to the polished hardwood floor with a tiny -drip.- Then… silence.
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