swan song

act one, scene one

[it was morning]

when i heard it.

first, a shrill,

a kind of cry,

coming from the bowels of the lake,

and it took me by surprise

when i prepared for a creature to crawl from the banks,

but instead, an angel

gliding along the water,

it’s feathers cutting deep wounds through the topaz surface.

“why is such a beautiful creature full of so much pain?” i asked the lake,

and to the sound of my voice

the water

rippled and squirmed,

aching for touch,

but i could not give it.

act one, scene two

[later that day]

the swan’s cry carried through my body

and no drink or drug could cure

that unfurling ache

in my bones.

what’s that, dear?

sorry, no, i wasn’t listening.

i had aged tenfold in ten minutes.

my chest felt heavy with smoke

and something sharp called regret.

i could hear the lake call

out to me

like an old friend

like a lover in the dark.

off the clock.

so, i took the long way home.

act two, scene one

[night was closing in]

the lake had gone silent as i stepped onto its soil

there it was again,

that cry,

and yet it no longer sounded sad.

had it ever been sad?

what i once believed was a cry of pain

was now a sweet moan rolling across the creases of the water.

i waited,

in the silent black night, i waited.

when the moon curled out from behind the clouds,

it followed the swan as it wavered toward the edge

like a wedding dress swirling in the wind.

all the while

it was singing,

it swayed with its own music,

conducting its own orchestra

of feathers and winter air.

realisation is a beautiful thing.

act two, scene two

[this was it]

i sat in the grass.

it’s not as scary as it seems.

we locked eyes,

the moon smiled with me,

they knew what i meant.

my swan song was coming to an end.

curtain falls

applause

silence.