Patricia Madigan

First, she was a voice heard through the cool white walls between us- a voice lonely and searching and aching to share and she shared, through a wall all the dreams in her head and in her heart. Her bright flirtatious voice brought worlds unseen on my side of the wall, or my side of the world. I never saw her face but her voice brought me beauty. He is quiet behind the wall. I imagine his scabby knees my mind sees him throwing rocks at crows I see him at James Cagney movies and hooking school, eating apples stolen from orchards I see him with yet a new child holding him and trying to make him laugh trying not to let him see the misery he was born into. I know I am poor; I live on bread and tea my dad drinks the dole money while my mom begs for whatever charity she can find Patricia's voice feeds my dreams until I am full she gives me the grace of Shakespeare and the fruit of other hearts, other minds and I am wealthy in her company. I am feeling weaker now and our keepers, nurses, nuns have moved him away from me saying we can't have so much talk between a boy and a girl I try to explain, it was only poems they say that's the powerful talk of all From what I heard Patricia is gone now taking all her dreams with her except those she put inside me. The last moment of her life, she lay on a cold wet floor; she'd tried to take care of her body's simple needs; now her body has no needs. Our keepers tried not to let me know Patricia would never see fourteen but the nurses and nuns will never know what happens between young souls I never saw her face but as an old man as a child I love Patricia Madigan....based on a scene in "Angela's Ashes" by Frank McCourt. Written November 9th, 2001 © on Nov 09 2001 01:12 AM PST   0 • 1