The Once and Future Ben

I wrote this poem today in response to a poetry month writing prompt. Of course, knowing LOST was on in a few hours, I had my favorite show on the brain. Tonight's episode seems to have answered a question or two about Ben, but the mysteries are only beginning to be unraveled. How much did Ben know about what was about to happen when he hopped the plane back to the Island? Did he realize what he'd been pruning Sayid to do? We shall see...

The Once and Future Ben

A broken man with malice in his heart
Sits calmly in his seat and reads a book
That hints at epic journeys. But a look
Into his eyes does not reveal the part
That he will shortly play. Does he suspect
The doom that he has brought upon the lad
He loves and loathes, the boy whose bitter dad
Was caustic in his efforts to connect?
"Whatever happened, happened," so they say.
Then does the man recall the treachery
That, for another, still is yet to be?
Or did his past unfold another way?
Did bloodied Ben facilitate a crime
Defining the direction of his youth,
Or, when we are presented with the truth,
Will we discover that the course of time
Is not so fixed as many would insist?
A child is shot by one consumed with wrath.
Perhaps this sets him on the villain's path;
Perhaps he simply ceases to exist.

A Hurley Christmas Card

The snowflakes are swirling in sparkling squalls.
A wonderland starts to unfold.
Snow silences straggling sounds as it falls;
The evening is quiet and cold.

But icy extravagance isn't the sight
That sets me a-tingle with glee.
My mind is on tropical climates tonight,
All thanks to my trusty TV.

The ad promised LOST is about to come back.
I'll soon observe ever-torn Kate
And learn whether shepherding's over for Jack.
Does John have too much on his plate?

As Sun and Sayid strive to make their wounds heal
And Sawyer, no doubt, remains surly,
One character carries the greatest appeal:
The island's own Santa Claus, Hurley.

Now, Hurley has neither a beard nor a sleigh.
He favors green clothing, not red.
But he has a list and an uncanny way
Of knowing where joy should be spread.

He may be worth millions, but Hurley has shown
Most meaningful gestures are free:
The warmth of a hug to a friend who's alone.
A jolly diversion or three.

A calm voice of reason. A steadying hand.
A laugh that alleviates fear.
The patience to listen and then understand.
A soft touch assuring, "I'm here."

His generous spirit allows him to give
To even the meanest of men.
He clings to the precept of "Live and let live",
Forgiving folks time and again.

Although he's no longer an islander now,
I trust I'll continue to find
In him an outstanding example of how
To always be gentle and kind.

O Lord, in this season of waiting and hope,
Remind me I don't need an isle
To focus on helping another to cope.
Let me dispense peace with a smile.

Each day, I'll endeavor to be Your reflection,
A light on a turbulent sea.
By Your Golden Rule, we will make a connection,
The huggable Hurleys and me.

Apollo

One of my favorite moments in this fourth season of LOST occurred at the end of Cabin Fever, when Hurley, waiting with Ben to find out Jacob's marching orders from John, opens up an Apollo candy bar and, after sharing a brief glance with Ben, breaks off the bigger piece and hands it over. No words are exchanged, but it's a moment brimming with humanity and compassion.

Throughout the show, Hurley's "love your enemies" attitude has helped dissolve many conflicts on the island and transform Sawyer from anti-hero to outright hero. I'd like to think this tiny gesture toward Ben, who has been the source of so much turmoil, might have similar good ripples - maybe taking him back, at an especially opportune moment, to the first time he was offered an Apollo bar, by the best (and, by some measures, only) friend he ever had. According to Wikipedia, Plato connected the name "Apollo" with simplicity, redemption and purification. Coincidence? I hope not.

Apollo

It isn't much: a silent glance,
A second chance, a gentle touch.
A careless shrug. The greater half
From one whose laugh is like a hug,
Whose empathy bursts into bloom
Though Ben's presumed the enemy.
An act of grace so undeserved;
Surprise preserved upon Ben's face.
So off-the-cuff, this chocolate clutch.
It isn't much, but it's enough.

I'm Lost Without...

This past Christmas, I received a shirt that reads "I'M LOST WITHOUT CHARLIE". Turns out it was prophetic, since Charlie's run on the show actually ended with the conclusion of the third season. He's one of my four absolutely favorite characters. Luckily, the other three remain, but meanwhile other folks have been getting whacked left and right. It troubles me. Hence, this little rant...

I'm Lost Without...

I'm lost without Charlie, musician and hero.
I'm lost without Shannon and Boone.
I'm lost without Eko, whose death by Old Smokey
Seemed random and happened too soon.

I'm lost without gun-toting Ana Lucia.
I'm lost without Nikki the ditz.
I'm lost without Paolo, Joanna and Leslie,
Who got himself blown into bits.

I'm lost without Libby, collateral damage
And Hurley's best shot at romance.
I'm lost without dangerous Bonnie and Greta,
Who never had much of a chance.

I'm lost without Ryan, Colleen and Naomi.
I'm lost without Donald and Scott.
I'm lost without Roger and Kelvin, the putzes
Whose passing propelled the whole plot.

I'm lost without Danny, irascible hothead.
I'm lost without friendly foe Tom.
I'm lost without Goodwin, that overgrown boy scout.
I'm lost without vile Ethan Rom.

I'm lost without Edward, the dude with the shrapnel.
I'm lost without Cooper and Klugh.
I'm lost without Pilot-Whose-Name-Wasn't-Mentioned
And maybe without Mikhail too.

O Damon and Carlton, desist with the slaughter!
Have mercy! Consider the cost
Of killing each character I've come to love, lest
At last I am lost without LOST!

Finding Vincent

One of the nice things about LOST is that just because a character dies, that's no guarantee we won't see them again. In fact, it's often a pretty good bet that we will. Shannon's been gone for almost two seasons now, but we've seen her since, and I wouldn't be too surprised if she pops up again before too long. Anyway, here's a little protest she launches against Sayid when he tries to stop her from going after Vincent early in the second season.

Finding Vincent

Nobody understands me
Except for that kid, Walt.
His dog is in my hands, see?
He's gone, and it's my fault.

I haven't been too useful
Since we first landed here.
I'm whiny and excuseful;
My purpose isn't clear.

Sayid, Boone died a hero.
I can't just sit around.
I'll feel like such a zero
If Vincent isn't found.

So please spare me your pity
And condescending speech.
I'm more than just a pretty
Girl tanning on a beach.

Come with me; I won't protest.
But you can't make me stay.
I'll certainly get no rest
While Vincent is away.

My mind's a mess of worry.
Why did he have to roam?
For Walt, I have to hurry.
It's time to bring him home.

Not Penny's Boat

This has been a bad summer for me when it comes to beloved fictional characters. Before J. K. Rowling ripped my heart out again and again with Deathly Hallows, I was assaulted by the carnage in the LOST finale, which included the demise of Charlie as Desmond watched helplessly. Here's a reflection by Desmond shortly after the tragic event...

Not Penny's Boat

NOT PENNY'S BOAT, he wrote
In black ink on his palm,
His face so strangely calm
As water filled that room.
I'd shown him to his doom
While someone pulled my strings;
His thoughts on noble things,
He'd played his final note.

I watched him gently bend
Like barley in the breeze
And crumpled to my knees,
Aghast at what I'd done.
Her name shone like the sun
Upon my eager eyes
But brought not smiles but sighs
As I grieved for my friend.

Oh, Des, you were a fool,
I mutter savagely
As in my mind I see
His steady gaze reach mine.
In destiny's design,
I was the perfect pawn.
Now Charlie Pace is gone;
I know that life is cruel.

It seems I've killed them all.
I only sought to save
And possibly to pave
The path that led to Pen.
We'll never meet again
Unless I break this curse
That haunts me like a hearse.
The chance of that is small.

The words catch in my throat
As I repeat them now,
In torment over how
To break the news to Claire.
My love awaits somewhere,
But no reunion rears.
I shudder as fate sneers,
It isn't Penny's boat.

John the Baptized

One of my all-time favorite John Locke moments on LOST comes very early on, when a large cloudburst catches him and he stands grinning up at the sky, the very epitome of joy. More than anyone we meet in season one, there's a sense that John is supposed to be on this island and that he has been healed so that he might fulfill some grand purpose there. Though this obsession with destiny has led John into some pretty dubious decisions, I still think there's something to it, and I love the feeling of rebirth encapsulated in this scene.

John the Baptized

The looming rain clouds open and spill their drops upon
The man whose face is turned up toward the sky.
The splendor of existence alights once more on John.
A miracle has touched him. Who knows why?

John doesn’t understand it, but, certain he is meant
For dauntless deeds and visceral delight,
He grins in exultation. He’s more than just content;
He’s vindicated, gratified and right.

His life is one of purpose, no matter what his boss
And savage, scheming father had to say.
Now, looking back, he wonders if he sustained the loss
Of movement for the glory of this day.

The blessed restoration has heightened every sense.
Oh, what exhilaration just to feel!
The water rolling off him takes with it every tense
Emotion, every ragged plea to heal.

A falling sunlit droplet becomes a tiny prism;
A rainbow, shimmering, comes into view,
The sealing of a promise that comes with this baptism,
That life abundant has begun anew.

Of Sacrificial Death and Life

Through the Looking Glass, the finale of LOST's third season, has really stuck with me this summer, and while I was contemplating what good could arise from Charlie's demise, it occurred to me that each of the seasons has essentially ended with a character laying down his life for the other castaways.

Boone's death came a little earlier in the first season, and while he failed in his aim of securing rescue with the plane's radio, his death sent John into a tail-spin of misery that ironically kept Desmond from killing himself, which might well have resulted in the deaths of everyone on the island. Granted, Jack could have saved Boone in the meantime, but it was the life-threatening degree of Boone's injuries that sent John off the deep end; I don't think he really had much chance of recovery.

At the end of season two, it certainly looked as though Desmond expected the hatch implosion to kill him, and common sense might dictate that it should have. But he survived, only to appoint himself Charlie's personal savior but ultimately lead him to his own sacrificial death. Now we're all scratching our heads and wondering whether there really was a point to it, but I suspect the positive ripples from Charlie's heroism will one day be as evident as Boone's, though quite possibly very different than anything he might have anticipated.

Desmond is the curious link between the two, another indication of the deep significance his character has for the progression of the show. In a sense, while Boone and Charlie are condemned to die, Desmond is compelled to live, plucked from the jaws of death every time it approaches, for which he's not likely to be too grateful while calamities follow him. Why him? There must be a method behind the madness...

Of Sacrificial Death and Life

The sanctity of sacrifice
Propels the island's grim events,
For death has taken heroes twice
And spared, for reasons yet unclear,
Another who, in brave defense
Of all, dispatched the dread device
Whose purpose John, bereft of sense,
Had doubted, making doom draw near.

'Twas John who led the youthful Boone,
Whose eagerness to make his mark
Encouraged him to stay and tune
The radio. Boone's fateful choice,
Embracing risk to snatch a spark
Of hope, cost him his life, but soon
The anguished John dispelled the dark
Despair of Desmond with his voice.

And hence, though Boone could never know
The consequences of his fall,
In causing Desmond to forego
His suicide, he did as much
As anyone to save them all.
Now Desmond, in the eerie glow
Of liquid light, has ceased to call
To Charlie, just beyond his touch.

His soul has left the fragile frame
That Desmond labored to protect,
The ending of a grievous game
Whose architect he can't forgive.
And yet someday in retrospect,
When wisdom takes the edge off blame,
He'll see how martyrs intersect
As catalysts so others live.

Vincent

Here's a tribute to Vincent, my favorite canine character on LOST. (Now that's a pretty safe assertion! Though I suppose he has some slight competition in Sun's pup...)

Vincent

You fascinate me, Vincent, mysterious and mute.
The flashbacks are reserved for those who speak,
And so your past is shrouded. You're furry and you're cute,
But you refuse the insight that I seek.

You've wandered through the jungle. What have you seen and heard?
If you could share its secrets, would you tell?
Could you decode the whispers made not by beast or bird
But Others who we don't know very well?

First lost and then abandoned, did you let out a moan
To indicate you hate to be ignored?
Or did you like the freedom of being left alone,
Returning to the shore when you got bored?

Just like the plucky Samwise, you tailed the raft-bound Walt,
Who couldn't seem to shake his loyal friend,
But tides conspired against you. His fate was not your fault,
And you'll be reunited in the end.

Meanwhile, you, just as busy as any castaway,
Helped Charlie ditch his hapless druggie role,
Led Hurley to the bus that he used to save the day,
Tried sparing foolish Nikki from that hole.

There may be more heroics, but even if your paws
Are idle on the island from now on,
You'll make me happy, Vincent. Accept my firm applause.
A light would leave the show if you were gone.

The Pilot in the Pilot

Here is a little ode to that poor unfortunate fellow who bit the dust in the first episode of LOST. Long may he live on in our memory...

The Pilot in the Pilot

It's tough to be the pilot in the Pilot
Who meets an all too swift and violent end.
First we hear his feeble voice,
Then we see him and rejoice,
But the writers have it in for our poor friend.

It's tough to be the pilot in the Pilot
Who doesn't know the Scotsman caused the crash,
Who must shoulder all the guilt
For the blood that has been spilt
And the bodies that have vanished into ash.

It's tough to be the pilot in the Pilot
With crucial information to impart.
He announces that they're lost;
Moments later, he is tossed
To the trees, and Smokey rips the guy apart.

It's tough to be the pilot in the Pilot.
Will anyone recall his bloodied frame?
When the rescuers arrive,
Those who last see him alive
Won't be able to provide them with his name.

It's tough to be the pilot in the Pilot,
Killed off before we know what makes him tick.
Yes, that pilot's lot is tough,
But he's with us long enough.
The Pilot pilot's piloting will stick.

Baby Brother

Though he's only actually appeared in three episodes of LOST, I feel like viewers have come to know Liam, older brother of Charlie Pace, fairly well. My feelings toward him are very mixed, since for the most part he seems to have contributed mightily to the downfall of Driveshaft and Charlie's own devastating heroin addiction. Yet there is definite evidence of fraternal affection from his end, particularly when he gives Charlie their mother's ring, ironically believing that it will be safer with him. While Liam's sudden determination to clean up his act, inspired by a desire to be a good father and husband, is admirable, in order to achieve his goal he abandons Charlie, who has always been there for him in times of crisis. So I imagine Liam has been feeling pretty guilty since the crash of Flight 815. Here's a little poem chronicling his contrition.

Baby Brother

I'm sorry, baby brother.
I drifted from your side,
Denied how much I owed you. I was wrong.
I'm sorry, baby brother.
You followed where I led,
To dead-end drugs that stripped the joy from song.

I'm sorry, baby brother.
I know you were the band.
You handed me a fortune, and such fame!
I'm sorry, baby brother.
The noble dream you chased
Was wasted on this Pace who shamed our name.

I'm sorry, baby brother.
I made you take Mum's ring,
The thing we treasured most, and now it's lost.
I'm sorry, baby brother.
Refusing your request
Seemed best. I hadn't counted on the cost.

I'm sorry, baby brother.
Though you were just a whelp,
You helped me after every ugly fall.
I'm sorry, baby brother.
I left you with my mess.
I guess I was the baby after all.