Poetry

Opening

You opened the door

Quite literally

I rang the doorbell

And there you were.

You opened the door

And something changed

Like winter to spring

There you were.

You opened the door

Yet I didn’t walk in

I stood there frozen

Because there you were.

And who was responsible for what I had found?
Was it serendipitous or divine?
An answer to a prayer?
Karma? Destiny?

You were just there.

You opened the door

And I fell to the floor.

Poetry

Trapped

“Why”, he asked me, “why stay?”

I looked away, not knowing what to say.

‘Maybe’, I thought, ‘it’s time to let him go.’

What do we really know?

He saw my pain, he took my hand.

“Come with me,” he said, and it began.

I followed him into his world; blinking, not from the light but because it was a terrifying sight.

The darkness, the frigid wind. It was bleak and it was grim.

Someone laughing, sent chills up my spine; it wasn’t the contagious kind.

He was gone; my heartbeat quickened; “where are you?” I called, my limbs all stiffened.

Sobbing, I heard, ran towards the sound. My screams piercing through me as I saw what I had found.

He’s in pieces, broken, blade in his hand. Crying tears of blood, unable to stand.

“I can’t, I won’t!” I said, “I won’t let you go! You’re coming with me, don’t tell me no!”

I gathered his pieces, broken heart and all, sew up the wounds so he could stand up tall.

We ran, hand in hand, I thought I saw the light. “We’re getting out of here!” I told him, “I’m ready to fight!”

Back to my world, it was getting close. He let go of my hand and said, “it’s no use.”

He was giving up, consumed by the darkness. He began to fade, blending in with the blackness.

“No!” I cried, “I know why you should stay! Your world is a cruel one, heavy without hope. But there’s another world out there, one you can cope! Let me bring you back there; I’ll stay by your side. Please, little brother, please don’t die.”

He wanted to choose life, he wanted to stay, but the world had failed him, persuaded him another way.

Poetry

Easy

It’s just easier. Easier to be alone.
Don’t have to worry about checking his phone.

Easier with the dishes. Not too many to clean.
Don’t have to worry about what he didn’t mean.

Easier in bed. No snoring in my ear.
No. Don’t miss his body, holding me near.

Easier in the morning. No make up, no shower.
No, don’t have to worry about marriage and power.

Easier with the kids. No drama at all.
Don’t have to worry if he’ll catch my fall.

Easier when the family gets together.
No, he’s not here again, I’m alone forever.

Easier without that diamond on my finger.
No, there’s no heaviness, no weight that lingers.

Easier without the smell. No more Bacardi.
Don’t have to worry about all his mini parties.

It’s easier to be alone. No more abuse.
Don’t have to care about his being obtuse.

Easy, just look. It’s easy to do.
No, my heart’s not broken, it’s good as new.

It’s easy to be hard. No more being weak.
No, I’m not crying, my eyes sometimes leak.

The easiness comes and the easiness goes.
After all, it’s what my kismet chose.

 

 

Poetry

i’Z

When i look into her eyes i see You

You in all Your beauty

Delicate fragile broken pieces

Pieces You cannot hide from me

i kiss her eyelids gently as she sleeps

Sleeps just like You do

She looks into my eyes and i see You

You as a young child afraid

Scared and alone and forgotten

Forgotten by Your father

i will never forget You in all Your

Beauty.

 

Poetry

Mother

There once was a girl, seven years old
Whose mother died from poison,
Or so the story is told.

The girl grew up; angry, afraid
Of monsters and darkness,
And the shadows she made.

She married, had children, lived in despair
For she wished more than anything
That her mother was there.

The world was against her, or so she believed
Her body ached with agony, even with
Every prayer she weaved.

Her children married, had children, and lived in despair
For their mother was unhappy
And her pain they could not bear.

She had three grandchildren, radiant and bright
They ran to her and hugged her
With all their might.

She looked at her children and grandchildren
The love that they shared, and realized then
Her mother had always been there.

Poetry

Someone Else

Your wife
She sleeps soundly
As you
Lay awake
Beside her
Phone in your hand
Messaging
Someone else

My husband
Is awake on the couch
As I
Lay alone in bed
While he
Whispers into his phone to
Someone else

Why do they always need
Someone else
The person in their bed
Is never enough
The person in their bed
Is just
A body

If he hasn’t already
He will
Use another body
Someone else

Someone else

Someone else

someone.else.

 

Poetry

The Plague

It started on the right
Always on the right
Right in the middle
The middle of my back.

It spun around
Bigger and bigger
A black hole
In the middle of my back.

Then came the bump
A tiny, hard bump
Under the skin
And muscles in my neck.

It shot up
Like a bullet
Shocking and quick
Up to my skull
From that bump in my neck.

The bullet explodes
It becomes a bolt of lightening
Directly on the right
Right there in my skull
Behind the eyeball
On my right.

The bolt has arms
Its pulling and tugging
Its ripping through my brain
Sending waves of red
Spilling into my head.

The bump in my neck
Sends a message to my brain
Tells it to be sick
Vomit out the pain.
My brain responds back
Anxious and afraid
Accidentally telling my heart
To prepare for an attack.

The black hole in my back
Spins bigger with each throb
The throbbing subsides
And with that is born
A blade
Slicing downwards so fast
That it’s numb
Slicing the right
Into a spasm
Right down that notch
Sciatic nerve.

It started on the right
Never on the left
And it never left.

It’s black and endless
Sucking my soul
It’s red and murderous
Spilling over and under
Into wounds
Creating wounds
No one can see.