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Homecoming
Mel Waldman
At the homecoming, we never talked about what had
happened. And I couldn’t recall.
The town welcomed me home. That’s all.
Yesterday (or perhaps, many Yesterdays have vanished),
I kissed my wife on her forehead and went to work.
There was an accident, you see.
I’ve been “asleep,” they tell me-in a deep coma for one
year.
Where have I been? Have you seen me somewhere? Have you?
I’m back, but part of me is far away. I wish I were there. What
can I say?
Perhaps, there’s a purpose to this-being here and not the other place.
Yet I can’t find a trace of humanity. Back home, the human race has
vanished, like Time, I believe, although the faces seem the same.
Still, not a vestige of soul caresses me, even when I gaze into the
fragile eyes of my beloved. She used to wear a vast gentle sadness.
Now, her lost eyes, distant and unreal, dart and flit across a
Waste Land where the glow of a full moon covers us at night,
penetrating, watching from above, within. I believe the sun
never rises here. And that’s a sin! Yet I know it’s so!
Where am I? Where?
At the homecoming, I kiss my wife on her forehead.
But is it she?
Gazing into her hypnotic eyes, I discover a chilling
image that cuts my soul in half. Within the icy
glow of a full moon hidden in her eerie eyes,
is the strangely familiar image of my dark
twin beckoning me to come home,
commanding me to forget... forcing me
to vanish, like Time, inside the Void...
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