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Open Poetry #36
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How Long?
| Open Poetry #36 |
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How Long? |
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peppermint35 Senior Member
since 2000-05-28
Posts 1106Texas, USA |
I want to try to write it out Try to make some sense If there is any sense in this And yet, somewhere there has to exist a word or phrase or millions of them To explain this feeling I have written before of pain Written of love Written of disappointment Written of discontent Not empty words, but strangely hollow Was I simply being prophetic? Were the words a continuation of the dreams? The nightmares .. the precognitive ones It did happen just like that.. so strange Or perhaps merely that deep inside I knew what I did not want to know The dream then.. let us start with the dream It starts with the knocking on the door I answer that door, already beginning to dread what or who is on the other side The whole dream is one of dread The visitors are police Of course more dread I never hear their words only step through the door Find myself in a long corridor, in a hospital I seem to know Walking down that long, long hallway into a room That room contains you.. or rather your body I look upon you, your face seems in repose, as if you sleep and yet I know that you are gone That fear, that pain, that reality wakes me I find a sodden pillow from the tears that are still flowing and a heart that beats wildly as I jerk up and get up Pace the room, look for something to drink, get a cigarette It's always early, early in the mornings, 1 or 2 or 3 a.m. Cannot call anyone at that time.. not even you, just to see if you are there.. sometimes I do call though.. and always your voice answers.. or I drive to where you live and learn that you are there... or at least always before that was true Those dreams stopped, did you know that? When you stopped that behavior, that destructive behavior you stopped drinking and the drugs.. and you stopped searching for whatever you were searching for .. perhaps an end, as I imagined you grew lighter inside, I could feel it, that little glow of completeness you were comfortable in your own skin And so I stopped dreaming those dreams and I thought... you are safe. then we found you were ill, but I never allowed myself to believe you would not beat that too Even though it might require, would require something large A donation.. I never allowed myself to believe, or even think or imagine an alternative ending to you going on until that night when the dream became reality The bad things started for you at 2 a.m. that morning.. April Fools Day.. how terribly appropriate they drained you of your energy, of which you had little to spare I see that now I thought you would use caution and care for yourself But whenever did you do that? not often you had a goal and you were determined It had to be accomplished then Patience was not one of your virtues I did have a gnawing at my mind of worry later on that evening I knew then you were driving back here It wasn't a long drive, but yet 35 or 40 miles.. You shouldn't have been driving, you knew that You chose to do it because you simply could not wait Again, patience was not something that abided in you You wanted it and wanted it now And so you drove ... away They came and knocked upon our door I was awake Your son was with me As was my mother, or her shell... They told me you were gone All I could say was NO.. NO... NO... that's what we all said, interesting yes? as if our no would negate reality I prayed it was a dream and that soon I would awake but if so.. I never have It was not a dream, then, was it? I saw your face, not right away.. but I had to see I saw all of you that they would let me see and you did look to be asleep Deeply asleep... but so very cold not much evidence of what took you away some bruising ... it looked like dirt I talked to you.. I cried on you... I tried to hold you it was too late soon I had to leave you there they would not let me keep you so we put you away, that shell anyway of course you are not there I know you are gone to a "better place" But it really is not fair I do not wish to go on now.. I do not want to continue This is no longer fun, there is no reason and yet.. there is a reason, it is called duty for you left me your son, he's in my care That duty and that love holds me here.. though I do not wish to be here.. I do not wish to be anywhere I do not wish to be I wish that I could drive away.. over the road into another where yet.. I cannot, will not, am not allowed That is not fair either.. but then it does not have to be Strange how the others do not hold me here.. though I love them too, with all of me... but this hole is so real, I can imagine others see the gaping wound of my heart that part that was you, that belonged to you still bleeds... will not stop.. even though I am no longer whole even though I do not wish to be here even though I cannot imagine feeling joy again I must remain To do what needs to be done What I know you would trust me to do Expect me to to do... and so... I will remain... but I am angry and hurt and wounded and no longer whole So my biggest question remains How long? Pepper |
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Gentle Spirit Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989 |
deep words you write here... felt deeply. very well done! |
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garysgirl  
since 2002-09-29
Posts 19237Florida, USA |
This realy touched my heart. Such pain was felt in this one. If this is about your own experiences, I am so sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours. Thanks for sharing this excellent writing with us. Heart Hugs, Ethel |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296 |
this was a painful write for you, not to mention read... sending prayers and hugs |
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peppermint35 Senior Member
since 2000-05-28
Posts 1106Texas, USA |
Thanks for taking the time to read. Yes, it is personal experience. In 2004, beginning on February 7, I lost my dad to cancer, it happened quickly though. Then on April 1st, one of my 4 daughters died in an auto accident.. and on April 5th, my mom died. Dad and mom's loss very, very painful but it is a fact of life that we expect to bury our parents... but the loss of a child, no matter what age, is something that cannot be described with words. At any rate, that's what is is about, and it's all from life.. cuz her 32 years of life had lots of pain for all of us, her as well, she was an alcoholic and got into the drug thing, she was bipolar.. at any rate, she got treatment, stopped the drinking and drugs, but later developed Hep C... well, long, long story.. but it's all there.. This is not poetry to me, I know, maybe not to anyone.. but I just had to write it out.. for someone to read... maybe to help with the pain, maybe to see if that part of me can come back to life.. maybe to release some of the anger, maybe a lot of things.. I don't know... If this is not the right forum.. I apologize.. but I needed to write it out.. for me.. at least. So much anger and pain, I guess.. I wish I could know why... At any rate, my humble thanks for allowing me to share anyway. Pepper |
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