A Living Tomb Poem by H E Alexander

I wander alone in this darkened room,
though I do not move, my mind ambles from beginning to end
of all the years spent in the partnership of love that once was
my whole life and meaning. My dreams now tend
to turn into the faded hope of a ragged cause;
a foregone faith dying in a living tomb.

There is no noise save my breathing, slow
and shallow, and the gentle childlike sob of an adult's crying tears
that in the past had been held back lest they thought me weak.
There's no need to hide them now, there is no fear
of losing something that's already deceased;
buried so deep, so cold below.

Should I leave the shelter of this space
to discover the isolation that the lonely find within the crowd?
Should I walk the road of a thousand footprints on a solitary
journey to nowhere, hearing nothing amongst the loud
voices but silence; a look of misery
hidden beneath my accepted face.

The prison walls that I have built
with my own self-pity will not last forever. The chains that bind
the past grow weaker each wretched day that I spend in the fear
of impending death, yet still I find
there is too much love for me not to bear
my bygone sins, my extant guilt.