Blindsided

Blindsided

Grief strikes at such odd times during the day.
Blindsided by the applejuice you drank in lieu of water,
I couldn't finish the shopping.
So I went to the car and cried.
Alone in my see-through sanctuary
made wet and humid by tears,
the windows steamed and fogged--as if the embrace of lovers
and not the clutch of sadness made it so.
More hot tears of loss began
to puddle, and purl, and soak,
to sting, and storm, and stream,
to fully flood me until I drowned
in a whirlpool of numbness.
Circling at the bottom of hope
until exhaustion suffocated sadness
and I could move again.

Look Into Heaven
(A Sonnet)

Look into Heaven with newborn, wet eyes
and cast yourself on the wings of warm fate.
Accede the dark night to the bright sunrise,
waiting and wishing Hope a clean slate.
Alas, you know she is soon to dying.
Pitiful time--this earliest hour.
So faintly, so sad, this wordless crying,
desiring the day with all of your power.
Features in black, in black with light recessed,
retreating in steps so small but not missed.
Forgetting the Hope and cursing the Blessed.
You alone weep--this day's not to be kissed.
In mourning there's only an hour to Hope.
The rest of the day is cursed, and we cope.

The Thief

I would close my eyes to keep from seeing such a thief.
But so blinded, I still feel the threat imminent.
My mouth makes wonderful little lies.
Though I cannot fool my heart into not breaking a hundred different ways.
The truth invades, ruthless and brutal.
Dying cells ennervate your body,
your hair disappears beneath my hands,
and I am so damned angry.
I would draw this thief out and have him savage me instead,
but I am not innocent enough for his tastes.
So I will watch, and pray, and love
keeping my eyes wide open
seeing you for as long as I can.


Prisoner of Condolences

I hold your hand on this day.
Your fingers filling the spaces between my own.
My warmth disappears into your palm,
evaporating into chilled skin and bone.
My whole body shakes with words unsaid,
and my tears deprived of descent
drown me inside out.
I am a prisoner of condolences
and shredding self control.
I nod thank yous and the like,
wanting only to climb in that dark bed with you,
pull you close,
whisper my love,
and will my fractured heart
to stop beating too.

Small Things

I am anxious about  small things.
Trivial fluff crowds my days.
These protective dust bunnies
keep my breakdown at bay.

I shuffle mounds of laundry
cursing the never ending chores,
but secretly thankful for too much to do,
so to not obsess on you.

There are scuffs on the floor to be rubbed out,
handprints on the fridge to be removed.
I wish I could dissolve my scars
with happiness solvent too,
but I am stained with insoluble grief.

Irreparable, torn beyond the seam,
my ragged threads refuse gentle mending.
So back and forth I sew, in numbing repetition
getting nowhere fast.
Monotony is my drug of choice these days.

And then, sparks of memory intrude
and every breath brings a slicing thought
of Momma's hand, and heart, and soul.
Even busy work cannot keep my
shattered self whole.


Before Dawn, They Come
(An ABC Poem; C-P)

Cigarettes smolder, buring
down to my pink fingertips.
Every time it happens, I savor the
fiery sensation, feeling alive.
Grasping straws...
Hell, don't
I know know it.  But I'll do anything.
Jesus, anything to
keep my demons from
lashing out, lowering
me into the
naked, early morning
open-aching
pit of depression.

I Am Here

I am in the shadows
with a sunshine kiss,
and in the breeze that strokes your cheek
on a summer's night.

You can find me in birdsong,
or the sound of swaying trees
each swish and creak
my whisper in your ears.

I am floating with the clouds.
Innocence on air,
sliding down rainbow beams
to reach a verdant earth.

I am never far away,
just a thought within your heart,
a name upon your lips,
a love everlasting
immortal within you.