The Frozen Man

It happened 

at first only intermittently

He would stop, going through a doorway,

or, as he'd closed the door of the bathroom,

as if he'd stepped in treacle,

stuck like a fly on fly paper

unable to fly.

The glitch would reconfigure and

he'd switch back on,

the malfunction seemingly gone,

but it was not.

 

The moments would become more

than moments,

Time pulled out like a piece of clay

and moulded into stone.

His eyes flickering like

a paused image on a screen,

of a tragic hero standing

alone. 

Then one day, in the hallway,

he stopped in mid stride, 

completely. He juddered for a moment

and was still.

 

We tried to force feed him pills,

put a hand on his shoulder,

and talk to him in soothing tones,

but to no avail.

 

We wept, bereft at he who

was still here but

had left. We told him we

loved him but he showed

no signs of understanding. 

 

We grew angry, shouting at

this statue who had robbed us

of something and then 

his numbness surrounded us

like an army, and marched 

on our very selves.

 

Our anger and sorrow fell away

to irritation at having to walk around him,

in our day to day lives.

We tried to move him,

but he wouldn't budge...

We drew on the advice of professionals,

but nothing seemed to work.

 

The shadow, this frozen

man remained and to him

we felt chained. We tried to sell

the house, but obviously no one

was biting. When we had viewings

they seemed frightened,

even though we assured them

that there was

nothing

to be frightened of.

 

Time passed like 

a train and he remained,

so that we almost pretended he wasn't

there until our pretence

made this absence true.

 

What else could we do?

 

He was not dead but

invisible, a chalk outline that

we learnt to step around.

 

We walked out to work on Summer mornings, not

seeing anything and returned

in the dark on Christmas Eve, 

blind to the indifference.

 

We'd grown old

in a blur and the oldest died;

the funeral unlocked something

inside. A voice and we did not know

whose it was.

Sat at the table, we thought it was a ghost,

until at the door,

stood the frozen man,

staring at us

and waving his frozen hand.

 

And we did not understand,

but broke down

and pleaded with him

why?

 

He laughed in sadness to some other self,

stretched out his arm and pointed in the distance,

whispered something we could not make out

 

We, reaching for his shadow

that fell across the room,

like water that was slowly melting...