The great Chinese Imperial Palace with
it's nine thousand rooms seems
to be infused with an idiosyncratic sort
of dynamism.
Many permutations lurk in hidden rooms,
Each sibling has a different set of parents and
conflicted perceptions, illness, resentments.
Some rooms communicate. Others do not.
An ill, permanently scarred child and
parental concord shrivels up like a day lily.
Some chambers change in dimension as
time passes.
Diminished hopes breed contempt and jealousy,
one parent's bitter pill, one sibling's ill will.
Time does not heal all wounds.
Rather, the sinister chamber elongates
over the years.
A Mother's illness and long decline provoke
latent animus in one sibling,
while the other two care for her and wait.
Wait for what? Validation, explanation, connection.
A facade of affability adorns the eroded chamber.
Collapse is inevitable.
Severance emerges from the dust.
Note: I have made major revisions to this poem, the last in May. It was previously titled Severance.
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