There is no bright light to travel toward

[Todd]

Hell is oneself, Hell is alone, the other figures in it merely projections. –T.S. Eliot

There is no bright light to travel toward

The stories you’ve been told are wrong;
this is no mild passage

to golden streets—there is no comfort-
ing metaphor for this state.

The breath escapes,
the body shudders, exhales

Life unzips like an old coat,
discarded

Memories drown in the river.
facts remain

without significance. This is lost to us,
a Lethean draught, irremediable

concealing loves, cares that bind, tying
us to this world, that we may not leave

This woman at my bedside, my wife
presses a damp cloth to my face.

She has become
an actress in an old movie

that I might have watched once.
These recollections form an endless list

of mocking credits rolling
NamesUponNamesUponNames

in this oppressive quiet
ForeverForeverForever

[billy]

and then we shuffle from this mortal coil.

i would have liked there to a couplet at the first line but never mind

what comes after the singular line makes up for it. a little too telly in places
and not enough show. (i love saying that ) but it doesn't matter as the couplets carry us (the reader along)
at a pace quick enough to forget.
some of the lines are pearls (in bold)
on the whole a really good poem about whats in store (i think )

There is no bright light to travel toward

The stories you’ve been told are wrong;
this is no mild passage

to golden streets—there is no comfort-
ing metaphor for this state.

The breath escapes,
the body shudders, exhales

Life unzips like an old coat,
discarded

Memories drown in the river.
facts remain this one feels a little cliché

without significance. This is lost to us,
a Lethean draught, irremediable

concealing loves, cares that bind, tying
us to this world, that we may not leave

This woman at my bedside, my wife
presses a damp cloth to my face.

She has become
an actress in an old movie

that I might have watched once.
These recollections form an endless list

of mocking credits rolling
NamesUponNamesUponNames

in this oppressive quiet
ForeverForeverForever

[Touchstone]

The stand out lines for me are:

The stories you’ve been told are wrong;
this is no mild passage

to golden streets—there is no comfort-
ing metaphor for this state.

I think that's brilliant. But since we're in Serious Critique...I've never been told about 'golden streets'. Now that I think about it, I can't actually think what I have been told lies beyond the bright light, but I'm certain it wasn't golden streets. Is that a part of Christian mythology? [I've never been religious so I'm not actually sure exactly what Heaven is supposed to look like (isn't it clouds?)]

Also, I wonder if 'there are no comfort-ing metaphors for this state' might not work a little better...breaking up the "phor for" repetition just that little bit. [EDIT. Actually, on second thoughts, I think it's better your way, but I'll leave the comment there as you might prefer it.]

[addy]

Lots of pitch-perfect lines here, and the way you slowly wrapped it up with the movie imagery is just brilliant. I can almost see the fade to black.

[Todd]

Billy: Glad that the pacing and a lot of the lines worked for you. Thank you.

Touchstone: Yeah Golden Streets are a Christian thing (sort of like Pearly gates)

Revelation 21:21 "And the twelve gates were twelve pearls, each of the gates made of a single pearl, and the street of the city was pure gold, transparent as glass."

Thank you for your comments.

Addy: I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for taking the time to comment. Much Appreciated.

Best to you all,

Todd