- under the bed,
which is to say
under the dense mattress,
where carpet border
meets wire frame springs,
and I can breathe
in a space I reach for
subconsiously;
once able to crawl there.
Tonight slides under
the top-most pillow,
the nearest I’ll get
to tunneling my way
into ice-bound Narnia,
pushing back linen
like plush wardrobe fur coats,
except no fauns found here
to welcome by lamplight,
in cold comfort
weathered seasons,
in grown-up dreams.
It snows in the dark
each breath noticable,
inhale today, exhale
into tomorrow for warmth
to be returned;
the day after the thaw,
chills will not prevail.
In another space,
I edge past a white witch
which bullies me
into not quite believing
in myself, her icycle aim
to leave me in perpetual winter,
yet a lantern
is pressed between my palms
by a lion, Aslan,
eyes with glimmer that he needs
to sustain as fireside coals,
usually he shows up
one page before
his untamed illustration,
paws still wet with artist’s colour,
his paint trail tail shows the route
to pass safely,
the forest beyond cares.
And a waking begins,
only is it noticeable
C S Lewis is here too
under the storyline trees
still typing the scene;
he wants me to continue
towards “Once upon this time”,
close the chapter
on winterland emptyness,
and write of a melt to come.
-
I’m not too sure about this poem, it’s based upon
the CS Lewis story “The lion, the witch & the wardrobe”,
where a witch prevents winter from ending or spring
from beginning (whichever way you wish to look at it)
A children’s book about good and evil, Aslan being a metaphor for
goodness & positivity & how it prevails with support, but
perhaps, most importantly belief (Lewis was a lifelong christian,
& although at times he doubted when events were wintery
(his wife died of cancer, as related in the film “Shadowlands”)
it was always at the core of his novels)
In the story, the “ice age” spell is broken, winterland turns
to spring and life begins again.
