Lamp
THIS POEM IS IN FIVE PARTS!
PART 1
I lost my virginity when I was 69...in my back yard, beneath the lemon tree.
I had my first child when I was 70!
With my wife in the midst of her pregnancy....
It was up to me to pick a name, so: I looked everywhere. Social media. The Bible.... even a telephone directory.
But all the names I found sounded crass...
and I say this quite regrettably.
Until something popped into my mind, something my FATHER once said to me:
He said "Son, you will live a blessed life if your firstborn's name ends with the letter P!"
I'm not entirely sure if he was joking, but...
So it was that I named my only son....Lamp!
When Lamp turned 18, he was finally old enough to stand on his own two feet, and he was able to walk....eventually.
He could form complete sentences before my wife and I had passed a century!
Finally, Lamp was ready for school....it was time for elementary.
He was young compared to his classmates...he was only 23.
He was gifted in looks....and average in height.
But sadly for Lamp, he was not very bright.
School was just not an area where my son would shine.
And....as it turned out, neither was fatherhood, mine.
PART 2
And so came a day, that filled me with shame...
The afternoon of a very important cricket game.
In my mind, repeatedly, I've returned to that day.
My son came back from school, and his clothes were stained.
His face was shrouded in shades of grey.
But I registered nothing in my stupid, stupid brain.
Something weighed on his heart, he had something to say.
He tried to get my attention, but my mind was on the game.
And so I lost my temper when tapped me again.
So I shoved him away, and my eyes were aflame.
Because I only cared if my favourite team won.
And that was day that I lost my son.
PART 3
Lamp was now a man, the centuries passed relentlessly.
He had since brought his own children into this world successfully.
But we had drifted apart quite steadily.
By now my wife and I were approaching 900 years of age...quite elderly.
One evening, my wife and I sat beneath that lemon tree.
It had been months since Lamp last texted me.
I told my sweetheart: "I feel like he's dead to me"
"Give him time. He'll cool down," she responded quite tenderly.
I had long placed my relationship with my boy into jeopardy.
I warred with my beloved Lamp, and our words were our weaponry.
And as the centuries passed, our resentment grew deep.
I was now at an age where I could no longer weep.
The stars in the sky danced, night continued to creep...
And in my wife's arms, I drifted to sleep....
PART 4
I'm floating...but how? I look down and see:
Two old people sleeping, and one of them's me.
A dream this is not....but I feel no surprise.
Is this what happens when someone dies?
I thought about the things I wished I'd done before my demise.
The places I'd never been. And all my unsaid goodbyes.
But some greater force must have heard my cries.
I was dragged across the world, through clouds in the skies.
Across oceans and forests and cities I sped.
To a place that seemed familiar, for it filled me with dread.
And then I floated above two other people, laying peacefully in bed.
And I saw tiny doors in both of their heads.
One was my son Lamp, I knew by his snore...
It still sounded the same as when he was four...
I was running out of time....I could not ask for more.
And so I dove headfirst into my son's door....
PART 5
The dreamworld was vast, like a massive picture book.
The landscape transformed with each step that I took.
It was surprisingly peaceful inside my son's mind.
But that did not mean he was easy to find.
I saw scenes of beauty....I saw him play Call of Duty.
I looked under rocks that were his favourite movies.
I sprinted through scenes of my boy watching porn.
And walked through all the memories where his children were born.
And finally I found him, on an endless road.
Beneath a sea of stars, it seemed that time had slowed.
He was on a motorbike....and he looked very cool.
I was proud of my son....but I knew I was a fool.
And so I chose to stand, in his vehicle's path.
I'd hoped he'd run me over. I expected his wrath.
But he simply slowed down, and stopped, and took off his helmet.
And in his eyes I could see no resentment.
Did he know that I was dead?....his eyes showed only pity.
I was about to say "I'm sorry son....for being so shitty...."
But the words didn't come at all....none could erase my countless lies.
The vastness of the anguish was too great, acknowledging it seemed unwise.
But Lamp handed me a helmet anyway, and I hesitated.
He simply nodded, so I decided to take it.
Then I got onto the back of the bike, I sheepishly climbed.
Then put my arms around my son for the last time.
And Lamp took us both on that infinite drive.
Even though I was a ghost I swear I felt alive.
Lamp was so happy to be his father's valet...
He did not even notice me fading away...
Simply taking in the wind and the noise and the glorious sunrise.
Lamp awoke the next morning with tears in his eyes.
THE END