Poetry, Writing

Dinner with Lucifer

Dinner with Lucifer
¬©Aislynn d’Merricksson, 2015
Dedicated to Mark and Tracy Pellegrino,
and to the other four wonderful dinner companions that night.


We are a motley group,
the five of us,
come together to dine with
the Prince of Hell
and his lovely lady.

What a noble cause it is
that has brought us together,
this unlikely lot of
world walkers,
dream weavers.

We have been brought together
by generosity of spirit
and the desire to help
spread a message of hope
to those ailing in heart and soul,
those who think the darkness of
oblivion is the only way to freedom.

Who would think love and loyalty
for the much maligned Morning Star
would be used to foster such good works?
Such playful irony indeed!

There is a quiet camaraderie at first,
each a bit shy, some more than others,
but as the night goes on, each comes alive,
firefly jewels glowing bright with personality.

It is a group bonded by night’s end
in easy acquaintanceship, friendship even,
through intelligent, genial conversation,
and by the sharing of silent afflictions
that cause the world to spin, and
make pain a constant companion,
where spoons must be divvied carefully,
and depression threatens to engulf one
in a warm, silky wave of grey.

Many, if not all, of us
have been touched by the
demon we are gathered to protest.
We’ve glimpsed the darkness
and thought it welcoming-
a gentle quietness, and an end to pain,
and end to suffocating fear and terror.
A guiding light helped draw us home,
and so we, in turn, have helped
another become a guiding light for many.

I am no exception here, though only one
other has every truly known.
Now I share with each of you,
such a fragile offering of the heart.
When younger, the thoughts
came, on dainty cat feet,
purring seductive release from
the sheer pain of existing
feeling so unloved, so unwanted.

Older, the thoughts came again,
on padding wolf paws,
a practical, logical solution
(or so it seems)
to the possibility of living with
true blindness, to never again
see the stars, to play with colour
or dance with words as only the sighted can.

I am safe from that for the moment.
The wolf is held at bay.

What random vagaries of fate
drew the seven of us together?
What ghostings of possibility,
the fine lacework of chance,
woven and unwoven by our every choice,
solidified into the greater probability
that pulled us together that night?
What intangible gifts did it bring to each?

For others, I cannot speak, but for me,
I faced several fears that night.
Luck or Loki’s blessing found me
seated next to the Prince himself,
a quiet, thoughtful man,
who terrified me nonetheless.
Who was I, to have such an honour?
my mind whispered, the wraiths of
my ragged sense of self-worth
swirling in panicked agitation.

A place I was unworthy of,
separated from the stability
of my sister, my family.
A place that left me to
trust a stranger to
unknowingly guard my blinded side,
where sight and perception
had failed me long ago.

Oh how I wanted to flee,
to retreat to a place I
was more ‘worthy’ of,
hiding on the fringes.
But stay I did, quelling
my panic as well as I could.
Stay I did, and I’m glad I did.
I faced my fears and
became a part of the group
instead of the spectator I
would otherwise have been.

I found a measure of acceptance,
found unexpected comradeship
with one who shares the same
rare dizzying affliction I do.
I found a part of myself that night,
gained back a tiny sliver of the
sense of self-worth long ago shattered.
I found my awen, my poetic inspiration,
dormant these many years.
Oh, how I’ve missed it!

To Lucifer and his lovely lady,
I thank you.
To the companions of the night,
I thank you.
Each and all played a part and
I thank you.

May each have discovered their own
intangibles gifts of an extraordinary night!

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