Interlude. by Mark Lloyd

by Mark Lloyd

Weeks of sounding out

to seek any hint of light,

to lift the relentless shroud

for a glimpse of the possible.

Safely rayless the rule

all fault to be seized

to revert to the safety of the script.

We drive him, with vague assurance,

no place for consent,

just repeated tales to quieten.

To the unknown, gated where fear prevails in all,

soothing words sound hollow

where wishing flight grows stronger.

Retreat from the pitch of chairs

and a nervy clash to the border

where whispered words may be spoken.

His coat retained, a tea untouched

we launch smiles to fake the normal.

A bubble of chat and greetings,

the host instructs

but to no end for him.

Confused, his pleading eyes pierce

at the opening notes,

echoed in our glance

of dissonance.

Resolve surrenders as seeless eyes

match trembling mouth,

all harmony vanquished at the resolution

to quit.

A familiar refrain strikes up

to pause our flight,

older than those present but

gifted down the years.

The beat tapped out by feet and hands,

a glint of light in inky eyes

and then, his hands spread wide ……..

directing the dawning choir

he now sees for the first time.

Unclouded, his face ablaze

he mouths his words in time,

he shares and casts his joy

and greets familiar rhymes.

Our tears release our fears

as the chorus crests,

applause echoes and fades,

an interlude in the ebbing dusk.