Waitless
Heart in necrotic sorrow,
I prepare myself to... wait.
Your tardiness attests refusal.
Anxious, I must ask why
can’t you glean my despair?
A filthy blindness’ habit of time.
Robe-cocooned, poised for tea time
with brew that sleeps sorrow,
mutes screamed despair.
In impatience I wait
for your shadowed knock. Why
entrench refusal?
Shall mission meet cruel refusal
when control of early end is time’s
only control we have? Why
do you abscond in my sorrow?
Coward! Curled and drained, I wait,
a thirsty husk of despair.
Your scythe can end despair
yet you toy in reign of refusal
The water hot, the herbs a-wait
at your leisure one more time.
You persist that I steep in my sorrow.
Why?
Creation’s curse on humans: “why”
instead of acceptance of despair,
ignorantly plowing our barren sorrow;
no concept of willful refusal
of life or pain or things in their time;
feeling fully in every season, without wait.
A place for time to heal, not wait;
appreciation, gratitude for all, not why;
blind faith for the wisdom of time;
accepting that end may flee from despair;
respecting death’s right of refusal;
tossing the cup that would drown sorrow.
Death’s choice to wait; labor with despair
Cast off burden of why; instead refuse
to be wait’s hostage; time’s grace heals sorrow.
Dora is today’s host for dVerse’ Poetics. Dora says:
Using the [given] poems as examples, write your own in the voice of one who has been stood up in no uncertain terms on a meaningful occasion. Duffy speaks through the imagined eyes of a character, Hardy and Plath from their own experience, but your own take on the topic is what we’re after, imagined or otherwise. You could also write in the voice of one who does the jilting, giving her point of view. Or the long-term effects of that singularly painful moment in time. Or the humorous or relieved discovery of misunderstanding the time or place. Whatever creative approach you choose, give free rein to your poetic sensibilities in this most fraught of shared human experience.
Tao Talk 
The gothic imagery mesmerizes, Death in its tardiness spurning the waiting lover. There’s so much to love, every phrasing, every shroud and muted scream of despair, but especially the movement towards acceptance, the “wisdom of time”– the imperatives of healing at the close. Raw and beautiful in depth and scope, Lisa. I stand in awe. 💖
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Thanks much for the in-depth feedback, Dora. Much appreciated. <3
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You’re most welcome! 🤗
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I like the wordplay in the title, Lisa, and the phrases ‘necrotic sorrow’ and ‘robe-cocooned’, and the use of question to involve the reader. These lines really get to the crux of the matter:
‘Coward! Curled and drained, I wait,
a thirsty husk of despair.’
And this line resonates with me: ‘feeling fully in every season, without wait’.
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Kim, thanks very much. Appreciate the feedback <3
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You’re more than welcome, Lisa!
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“Time’s grace heals sorrow” ~~~~ a sestina for all of time. This is gorgeous writing, Lisa.
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Helen, thanks much!
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deep comes to mind, Lisa…and wow🤍
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<3 Thank you, Destiny.
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my pleasure 🤍
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Wow Lisa…that is some heavy writing! The picture also is really cool.
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Max, I started out with 6 words and wasn’t sure where it was going, but it did get pretty heavy. Thank you. Yes, I love that pic. It was perfect for the poem.
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That was excellent Lisa…you really did a gret job.
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Max, thank you.
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I love this, it pulls you in right from the opening lines into the conversation with death. It’s a poem I would read again and again. Superbly written. I particularly loved this stanza.
Shall mission meet cruel refusal
when control of early end is time’s
only control we have? Why
do you abscond in my sorrow?
Coward! Curled and drained, I wait,
a thirsty husk of despair.
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Di, thank you very much <3
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The sweep of the reaper’s scythe is cold and infernal — the freeze of a halved heart – it’s felt early in every abandonment and repeats for a life of actual and imagined jiltings, up to and through one’s own separation from the living. The harrow of that is archly here, sung to its Poe.
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Brendan, thank you for sharing what you see and saying it so eloquently.
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An awesome piece Li. So poignant and deeply moving
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Sadje, thank you, my friend.
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You’re most welcome 🙏🏼
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Hi Lisa, this is a compelling poem. I am sure that at a time of rejection, especially if it is public, a person would wish they could die. But death usually does not come, unless it is by the person’s own hand. Healing does come with time though and these thoughts must pass eventually. Although, perhaps not for everyone.
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Robbie, thank you for your insightful comment. I am with you in those thoughts.
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Wow, Lisa, this is a magnificent sestina full of mortal angst and sorrow and struggle in classic style! And the artwork fits your poem perfectly….impressive!
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Lynn, thanks so much. I usually don’t like to/want to go that deep but the prompt called for it.
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I love this line –
In impatience I wait
for your shadowed knock.
and the phrase “thirsty husk of despair.”
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Chris, many thanks. I blame my current reading list of Discworld books for it. I love the way Pratchett characterizes death in his books.
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A haunting waiting for death and the sestina form so apt! So many powerful images but ‘a thirsty husk of despair’ will stay with me for a long time.
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Punam, thank you very much.
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You are very welcome, Li.
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A wonderful sestina. I love your description here: “Curled and drained, I wait,
a thirsty husk of despair.”
And “You persist that I steep in my sorrow.
Why?”
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Thank you, Melissa. Just re-read it. Not bad.
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Not bad at all!❤️
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PS. Everywhere I turn, I keep hearing the phrase jump scare or some combination of the words. Makes me think of you every time.😂
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Oh wow. Boo!
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