Prospero. (A Companion poem to "Miranda".)

Miranda
My eyes are full of stories
That you could read
If you glanced back over your shoulder
For just one moment.

Meantime
I sit in the corner by the bookcase
Watching you quietly walk
Out of the Living Room
Into the unlit hall.

Yes
The scope of my realm is small,
No larger than the ground floor of my house,
The curtains closed,
The front door bolted,

The carpets thick with dust.
Yes
This is the world I own,
My private magic island
Fashioned from bricks and mortar,

The only world you know.
Meantime
The storm my books unleashed is changing all things,
Smashing the shoreline, tearing trees apart,
Wrecking ships in the harbour,

Bringing your future husband to seek shelter
In the cave where the logs are stored.
You will find him there tomorrow,
But tonight you must sleep alone
Unaware of the vows you will take.

If you could look through my eyes
You would know all this,
Miranda,
But you have always lacked the foresight
To seek beyond the walls

Of our home that is smaller than most.
I need only a handful of books
To study to shape the future,
But you need far more than I have.

You need the voice of a stranger
To call you out of your dark room.
You need the freedom to love.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
March 18th. 2018.

I do not like Prospero very much, I think he is a bit of a control freak, but sadly, I seem to understand him far too well. Perhaps I will prefer Caliban when I make a study of him.