"Hamlet: Poem Unlimited"
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~ Ophelia ~

There will be no sleep for me tonight.
I want to talk with someone.
For so long, I could not take a step
without someone being there at my elbow,
wanted or unwanted.
Now I want them all,
but there is no one here.
Pen and paper must serve,
here in the candle-light.
Dear Laertes,
I wish that you had not gone off to France
in the wake of the royal coronation.
If you had been here,
perhaps your vaunted wisdom
might have helped
to bring a better end about than this.
You warned me not to love Hamlet,
though for the wrong reasons, I think.
You thought he played with love,
with me as his toy.
That much I know is wrong.
Whatever changed him,
we were once such
that I would have joined blood to blood
with him, and made him your brother.
Dear Father,
I wish that you had not been left
to be parent alone;
How hard that must have been.
I think now of your clumsy song,
meant to bring me comfort and sleep,
as more precious than any rhapsody.
You also warned me
that Hamlet would bring me pain;
though I could never quite sort out your reasons.
Political in half,
emotional in quarter,
with the final quarter born of some obscure wish
to simply protect me.
When I see you in the morning
I must give you two things:
a kiss, from a daughter who knows
that you love her;
and a winter flower,
to remind you that beauty knows no season
where it cannot thrive;
that mother, were she here,
might tease your foolishness, as I do,
but love your kindness,
as I also do.
Dear Hamlet,
a flower for you as well.
One that will hang bright
on your black doublet
and perhaps offer some alternative
to the night of the mind you have embraced.
I can no longer be that flower.
I have loved walking
the dark edges of thought and of love
with you;
where we together were enough
to laugh at propriety,
reject destiny,
and bring to life rebellious dreams
that for a moment, at least,
seemed real.
You have gone beyond the edges now,
and found there ways to hurt,
to damage, to wreck.
There is no place in my life for cruelty,
be it wise or foolish.
I would rather die than see it.
Perhaps that is in itself wise,
perhaps foolish.
I do not know.
Laertes, Father, Hamlet.
I do love you all.