"Don't put things off…it may be later than you think."
“Swallowed Harms”
right here upon a heart staked hope,
I asked for help, your shoulder cold.
irksome, lonesome, per arrangement,
a perfect marriage becomes estrangement.
left to quiet room’s despair,
Atlas shrugged, and took a chair.
suffer, shame despondent moods.
harried lifelong interludes.
a simple sense surrounding charms,
regurgitating swallowed harms.
“Sharing”
Sitting across from you,
I get the bird’s eye view,
of how little things wear you down.
So many times,
quotidian grinds,
permanently furrow your brow.
I reach for your hand,
perhaps understand,
why you never find some relief.
You pull away,
try to save face,
and spare me insufferable grief.
You carry it hard,
it fills up your heart.
you leave no room for reprieve.
Your daily landscape,
a deadly earthquake.
Coming apart at the seams.
I wish I could take,
all you forsake,
simply to lighten your load.
A nightmare that’s shared,
leaves one less impaired,
and more able to give it a go.
Poem 23 exists as a therapeutic exercise. Thank you to JEB, up in NH. Your suggested phrase helped me to revisit some emotion.
“The End is Near Sometimes”
Sometimes on Summer Sundays,
people pass out of this world.
Elemental souls leaving behind dead meat.
Honorable hardworking hearts,
hiccup and then stop.
Permanently.
There is a specific room in the emergency wards of most hospitals.
A grief room.
The horror show.
Some call it the suffer buffer.
An administrative attempt at compassion.
Staged grief.
It is preferred that you “act out” in there.
Please!
We don’t want the others to think someone is dying nearby.
Only sanitized grief is allowed.
Dignity displayed in disposable units.
Shuffled inside, while they cobble their strategy.
The content is similar,
the names are changed.
Tissue boxes that don’t look like they hold hardly enough.
The door opens.
Please…this way.
The chaos dizzies.
When you arrive at the spot that you are designated to stand,
gravity holds you there.
So many things to see.
Yes, this is it.
It’s time.
It is no longer an abstract.
The moment is upon us.
Hope, has left the room.
Tears well up.
The point of no return has come.
The attending physician somehow gets your attention.
Her eyes are full of two things:
Professional compassion and the consequence of truth.
Eyes still locked.
The decision has been made.
Acceptance of that truth stings for a moment.
Then a desperate attempt to salvage the seconds left.
The chaos falls away.
The people go out of focus.
The only thing left in the room,
a vessel that contained love.
The transfer is complete.
The eyes, always the eyes.
Expressive eyes at one time,
need a gentle palm to close the lids.
Fingertips insuring that rest is obtained.
Time.
Quiet.
Disbelief.
What next?
The end is near sometimes,
and then it is right on top of us.
Hello Readers,
I wanted to let you know that I have not abandoned my post. I have been waylaid by a very personal event, that has taken up a significant amount of time in my life, and has not allowed me the creative freedom to write as much as I would.
On July 26, 2014, my beloved Father, suffered an intracerebral hemorrhage. As far as strokes go, this is a pretty difficult one to overcome. He did as well as someone could after suffering a brain injury like this, but on August 23, 2014 he left this plane existence for a better place.
Needless to say, I am affected greatly. The stages of grief are channeling through me, so I am trying my best to cope with them all as they come.
All I ask is for your continued patience with my blog moving forward, as it will switch temporarily from the madness of my mind, to the sadness of my heart. I intend on writing myself through my grief. I intend on keeping it entertaining and as light as possible, as I memorialize many aspects of my Father’s life, our relationship, and just about anything involving the process of losing a loved one.
Thank you as always for your support, your readership, and your time.
Best regards,
Christopher
