Night, after a day awake…

Somewhere there is an end, but not now. I am looking for a heart belonging too, or maybe it would be better if you would just call me. I stood with you. I failed with you. I loved you. I was perfectly adroit, like a gift. I was an ember in your flame; an instrument in your symphony but then the parting stage where I said, fight for me, indicate a little struggle. I said I would leave if you succumbed to your exhaustion. I did you know – say this…and then I left.

And then the cruelty of angels. I said I would forget you. I said don’t say hello when you see me. But we never have, have we? See. No we haven’t. You died before we had one last chance…one more time. If – but, no not, it can’t happen now…fuck I wish it might. I wish, I wish, I wish it could. I wish that I could hear you sing again – your voice better than any on television; that’s what I used to say, didn’t I?

I said that because I loved you like a boy. What is better than the love of a boy who admires – who would do any thing to see you smile? And then I became a poet, didn’t I Mom? A writer. Imagine, I can talk to you whenever. I have that magic. I can remove migraines Mom, I can do anything a word can do. I can. I will use words now to reach you. I am not a lazy boy after all. Watch, I will send you a word picture of you like you always wanted to be…alive.

The pills. The laughter. The long drives. You and me – we talked, didn’t we? You made me as important, I know it’s bad to say, but you made me important like Dad. Can I be important differently now? Drop a little hint, give me a sign, a lite little rain; your favorite leisure activity – watching the rain patterns on the grass of our lawn. Tell me your story. What had to have happen to you and by whose hand did you become so mean and crazy?

What happen in your past that made you turn away from a child’s loyalty? I don’t know, maybe Minnesota winters, their long silence; a great gap of  affection, or something else, now no one will know. By the time I was 17 you were in a state hospital. That is alone. The meaning of away; far from song or laughter, far from the voices of your children. And they forgot the sound of your voice. You did coo didn’t you? I want to remember that you did, fondly.

Me? I am fine. Better than you might expect, certainly better than your best guess at a prediction…and nothing you ever did has, or ever will make me forget the gift of life that you gave me. Even though you spent most of your short life living in a fearful fright – you did manage to give me the gift of song , and for that I am forever grateful…and for that I promise to forever remember you as a mother, as a woman who was capable.

Thank You

Poetman

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3 responses to “Night, after a day awake…

  1. so moving, and so very sad, mister poetman

  2. Your poem about your Mom, touched me deeply. It made me think…a lot. It made me sad, it made me cry. After I read your poem, I wrote the following and thought that I would share it with you………..A poet I’m not!

    If only

    If only I could tell you how much pain I’m in.
    If only you would hold me and tell me everything will be all right.
    If only I could tell you that my best friend is dying and have you listen.
    Listen to the pain, the hopelessness and the fear in my heart.
    Listen to me with sincere concern……with just a few tears in your eyes.
    If only you would listen to what I have to say. No opinions, no counter exampling,
    No blame. None of your usual “You should have, You could have” Or your “Whys?”
    If only you had listened to me as a child, as a young woman and now as an adult.
    Will you hear me when I’m no longer here?
    Will I finally be able to talk to your when you’re not?
    If only I was the perfect daughter, would you have listened tome?
    If only I was the perfect daughter, would you have kept me?
    Do you love me Mom?
    If only I knew.

    If only

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