I looked to the city.
The lights were on, but nobody was home.
I was alone.
I expected dust devils to whirl
as I walked through my world.
Behind every door a Marie Celeste,
of empty chairs and still full plates.
Always alone.
Wherever I looked reigned emptiness,
yesterday’s news and mild distress.
The dust and dirt of memories
clung to my walls like tragedy.
And then the lights went out.
That was when I knew, without a doubt:
I would always be alone.
But what was always there,
that I just couldn’t see,
were all the souls
surrounding me.
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You were not alone, after all!
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Yeah, Miriam, it was all about our own perception, often our greatest enemy 🙂
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It’s true, Steve! 🙂
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The reality of other dimensions is very intriguing and puzzling to our limited senses. Interesting poetry, Steve. 🙂
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Hi Olga,
Poems are all open to interpretation, and generally most (though not all) have double meanings, or use imagery to cloak their original meaning.
I wrote this one about loneliness and isolation. It’s about how people sometimes see themselves as being alone, when in reality there are others around, often similarly isolated. It’s about losing the feeling of connectedness with others, the metaphor being the empty city.
Happy you liked it and found a different meaning. In the end, poetry is in the mind of the beholder. 🙂
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Thanks for the explanation. Your right! Poetry is in the eye of the beholder. 🙂 I think the best poetry is composed of multiple layers. When I first started reading your poem, I was drawn to the possibility of an apocalyptic event had happened and there was a sole survivor, but then I changed my mind when the souls entered the picture. Just another interpretation.
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A beautiful poem
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Thanks, Ken, much appreciated! 🙂
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You’re welcome
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