Wednesday, 8 August 2012

Henry's demons

Part the first:

I sit in my car,
secure before my interview,
listening to the whispering voices
of my radio.
I hear a father telling falteringly
of his son:
a boy called Henry.
My whole attention’s won.

I am stunned
as the gentle man says how
Henry once took hash
and mislaid his sense.
From that time on
he was troubled of mind;
pursued by demons
none else could see.

He was put away.
Institutions became
his unhomely home:
no place of nurture.
Escape was his constant
cunning endeavour;
but success in this business,
presaged failure elsewhere.

Once out in the world
he had no sense of self;
no idea of what was real,
of what was good or ill.
He was overwhelmed,
fragile, incompetent;
not knowing whom to trust,
or what to do for best.

Drugs gave a peace
beyond all understanding;
but loss of understanding
was too high a price.
The destruction of self,
is no rational sacrifice.
All drugs do is pacify,
not make one whole.

Eventually, love won
and Henry was drawn back
into the light of reason,
and found true peace.
He was re-united
with his worried Father and
close family and friends:
a sort of resurrection.

Part the second:

I feel I have a choice:
one won through pain and love;
a choice unwelcome,
though offered of benign intent.
I ken a solid semblance
of what I heard the man relate
could become real for me
but at a woesome price.

A dilemma, richly dark,
is for me now proposed:
either to accept the present pain,
as for the best;
or else allow a higher cost,
and so to have returned
what I have loved and lost
and still do sadly grieve.

The choice seems clear:
but I am well forewarned
that no glad good
will come of such desired renewal;
but only further, deeper pain
and greater suffering.
It is not possible that I should help:
but only hurt.

1 comment:

  1. I THINK I understand,
    but not sure that I do,
    yet confident that I can
    somehow relate
    to such agony of
    the heart,mind, body and soul.