This poem/prose came to me when my instructor was defining the word
"misprision" as a refusal to see. He was talking about the refusal for
people to believe computers are not the end all be all, but this is what I
saw instead.
Misprision:[n]- the neglect or wrong performance of a duty. The refusal to see. See also denial, misunderstanding.
Disclaimer: Although the characters are from Rurouni Kenshin (not mine), the idea is all my own.
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"Welcome home, my darling."
It was so sweet of her to say that as I walked through the gate fresh from the storm. I've grown to expect it. That's what she said last time and the time before. Over and over again. Every time I enter.
"Welcome home, my darling." I held onto her. She is my delicate flower.
"Were you lonely?"
"It wasn't so bad." That's right it was only a year this time. The boy came to us then. I didn't know who he was until he spoke.
"Hello father." His hair had changed. It was darker than mine. When did he get so big? He must have grown because now I feel so small next to him. I would have remembered feeling that small.
It was a regular family reunion. There were tears and hugs and cold stares from steel blue eyes. Why was he so angry?
When his mother left us, we spoke my son and I. He kept saying things that didn't make sense.
"Why don't you open your eyes?"
"Stop asking me the same questions!" I hadn't meant to yell. I've never yelled at my son before, at least not that I can remember.
During dinner, I kept glancing at my wife, my delicate flower. As she ate, I noticed two white scars on her wrists, slender and straight, peeking from beneath her long sleeves. Those weren't there when I left. An accident? A fall?
"Why don't you open your eyes?" What had he meant by that?
"She doesn't smile as much as she used to." But she's smiling now. She's looking up at me. She's clinging to me so tightly. She must be cold.
"Are you going to leave again, my darling?"
"In a week or two." I can't get it out of my head. Why weren't my answers good enough for him?
"Why don't you open your eyes?"
They are open. They are!
"Why can't you see?"
I can see. He knows nothing! I can see the pale skin of my wife against me. I can see the paler lines of those slender scars, unhidden by the clothing I bought her. I can see her head against my chest, her black hair everywhere. I can see her shaking. She must be cold.
Perhaps I should close the door or get an extra blanket. I think I will when she loosens her grip.
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A/N: I have had many papers due since my last update of "Prisoner of War." 10 to be exact. And I am going through diagnostics because my doctor thinks I have Chrone's disease. Needless to say, fiction hasn't been my main priority. The good news is finals are next week, and then the week after I start my summer classes, Fiction writing and Poetry writing. There will be lots of updates then. Anyway, please tell me what you think of this piece, good and bad. Analysis makes me very happy. Please send me yours, but if you want mine, let me know. Please review!
Misprision:[n]- the neglect or wrong performance of a duty. The refusal to see. See also denial, misunderstanding.
Disclaimer: Although the characters are from Rurouni Kenshin (not mine), the idea is all my own.
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) )))
"Welcome home, my darling."
It was so sweet of her to say that as I walked through the gate fresh from the storm. I've grown to expect it. That's what she said last time and the time before. Over and over again. Every time I enter.
"Welcome home, my darling." I held onto her. She is my delicate flower.
"Were you lonely?"
"It wasn't so bad." That's right it was only a year this time. The boy came to us then. I didn't know who he was until he spoke.
"Hello father." His hair had changed. It was darker than mine. When did he get so big? He must have grown because now I feel so small next to him. I would have remembered feeling that small.
It was a regular family reunion. There were tears and hugs and cold stares from steel blue eyes. Why was he so angry?
When his mother left us, we spoke my son and I. He kept saying things that didn't make sense.
"Why don't you open your eyes?"
"Stop asking me the same questions!" I hadn't meant to yell. I've never yelled at my son before, at least not that I can remember.
During dinner, I kept glancing at my wife, my delicate flower. As she ate, I noticed two white scars on her wrists, slender and straight, peeking from beneath her long sleeves. Those weren't there when I left. An accident? A fall?
"Why don't you open your eyes?" What had he meant by that?
"She doesn't smile as much as she used to." But she's smiling now. She's looking up at me. She's clinging to me so tightly. She must be cold.
"Are you going to leave again, my darling?"
"In a week or two." I can't get it out of my head. Why weren't my answers good enough for him?
"Why don't you open your eyes?"
They are open. They are!
"Why can't you see?"
I can see. He knows nothing! I can see the pale skin of my wife against me. I can see the paler lines of those slender scars, unhidden by the clothing I bought her. I can see her head against my chest, her black hair everywhere. I can see her shaking. She must be cold.
Perhaps I should close the door or get an extra blanket. I think I will when she loosens her grip.
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) )))
A/N: I have had many papers due since my last update of "Prisoner of War." 10 to be exact. And I am going through diagnostics because my doctor thinks I have Chrone's disease. Needless to say, fiction hasn't been my main priority. The good news is finals are next week, and then the week after I start my summer classes, Fiction writing and Poetry writing. There will be lots of updates then. Anyway, please tell me what you think of this piece, good and bad. Analysis makes me very happy. Please send me yours, but if you want mine, let me know. Please review!