Act I Scene VI
Narrator: Placed on suicide watch for several days.
Every fifteen minutes or so inmates appointed to invade Andy’s space to keep him from caving.
Andy: All this protective attention’s unwarranted.
Where were they when my Aria’s life I spilled?
Then I should’ve been quarantined. Justification legitimate.
Now she and he are stilled.
Up on a daisied hill peaceful verdant they await
Yes, for now they lay dormant.
They are at peace.
Narrator: If furtive eyes were what his guardian inmates sought
Andy did not them permit a glance into his thoughts
which would not have pleased
for they would have believed
him seeking a way discomfort to ease.
Yet, motives, desires, one’s inner reflect
not always through the eyes can an outsider detect.
Worst case scenarios someone may suspect
imputing wrong motives based upon personal ideas
situations in error to connect.
Though, empathy is crucial; yes always valid.
An internationally humane way to lovingly interconnect.
Andy: With this constant surveillance, my life scrutinized
how will I continue Aria’s hidden letter–
my supposed reason for this threatened demise?
Narrator: So Andy rested days upon days.
Able to analyze Aria’s definition of fear in a glaze.
Her silent statement thoughtfully made:
Don’t let fear annihilate you to end your always.
Lying on the mattress
gazing at the ceiling his new sky overhead
Andy considered Aria’s love
how initially it kept him determined
Amazed at how her letter protected
close to his heart
even in her death
its presence kept him sweetly
from combusting totally apart.
He dreamed of their beginning.
How they’d never wanted to part.
Now here he lays remembering
how he and she got their unlikely start
as the words of a poem special
spoke to his broken heart:
Narrator: Aria’s voice lulls Andy to sleep
as his sightless eyes see her kneeling at his imprisoned feet
dressed white cotton
speaking tranquil words he mouthed in repeat.
Aria: Young men,
you tender virgins,
those stillborn in death
your gentle passage
’til called in glorious renew
your days to endless splendor
your feet through golden sands;
though now: a time of danger
anxiety for imperfect man.
Yes, sweet your sleep,
you’ll not remember;
as rising suns chase settling moons
the living mourning
in cycles crying
Narrator: Andy recalls this verse implanted in his soul
although everyday living had buried it cold:
“Your dead will live.
My corpses will rise up.
Awake and shout joyfully,
You residents in the dust!
For your dew is as the dew of the morning,
And the earth will let those powerless in death come to life.” Isa. 26:19.
This gave Aria’s poem their meaning, value.
Their precious worth. . . TO BE CONT’D
*Sweet Sleep… https://allpoetry.com/Lucretia_Mccloud