[Redbook1:172B(173A)][19700911:0000][Death
and Matilda][11th September 1970]
(11.9.70)
Death and Matilda
Matilda
lay in bed, quite still, and heard
The
creak upon the stair;
The
rustling of her own wind-whispered hair;
An
errant mouse.
The
empty house
All
full of empty noise: she lay, and dared
Herself
to think of things she had not cared
To
think of: faces, fears.
The
mind’s eye sees, the mind’s ear hears;
Matilda
lay in bed
And
thought of what her Grandmama had said
The
day she died.
The
chill wind sighed.
The
cold moon flowed into her darkened room.
She
lay and watched the shadows grow, and loom
Towards
her huge, cold bed.
Matilda
gasped, and turned her curly head:
The
table lamp had moved!
Her
fearful spirit now would not be soothed.
The
house had won.
The
fun’s begun.
A
branch tapped lightly on the windowpane,
A
gentle tap, like drops of summer's rain,
But
then -- much worse -- it stopped.
A
crash within, as something heavy dropped,
Or
was it just a door?
--
As something heavy dragged across the floor
--
Or just a rat?
And
what was that?
Matilda
saw her Grandma's pain-filled eyes:
“God's
punishment is life: who lives, who dies”
Her
Grandma said.
‘And
now my dearest Grandma is dead!’
‘How
could she simply ... die?’
‘I
heard her last pain-withered, death-drawn sigh.’
‘I
saw her face.’
In
time and space
Is
nothing lonelier than the face of death:
No
thought, no mind, no movement, beat or breath.
A
little child,
By
death beguiled,
In
ceaseless mental strife
Explores
the endless mysteries of life.
Beneath
the sheet
Her
quick heartbeat
Reflects
the symptoms of this lively world
As
shades of death, the images unfurled
Her
mind inferred.
[PostedBlogger08042013]
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