We're wading through haunted waters after losing our captain in our own personal 9/11.
6/30/01
Syringe caps litter my bedroom floor
Like ammunition shells on a barren battlefield.
Smoke rises from the ashes in my heart forevermore,
And the emptiness that's left behind won't be healed.
The quiet morning is so much louder than the night before.
Battle cries that sounded so distant and unreal
Are now echoing screams through a sunlit door,
And the settling dust and nightmares are unrelentingly real.
Your last breath hovers
On my lips lost forever
In the torment of a terrorist strike.
Blowing desperate pleas
Into lungs that gurgle and wheeze,
And still your losing the fight.
The vision of finding you on the floor
Frozen stiff in pain and fear haunts me.
All your spirit and strength is reduced to this horror,
And my helplessness appalls and taunts me.
Pounding on a gentle heart that used to care,
The whites of your eyes are turning gray.
You heave with all that your might can bear,
And strain to keep your life from fading away.
I love you,
I miss you,
I can't stand seeing you in pain.
I wish I treated
You better, I wish
I could've stopped the pain.
4 comments:
Evocative picture and poem, heartbreakingly beautiful.
Hope everything's OK.
Thanks Mary. I've been struggling lately, but I think I'm pulling through it.
I was just rereading this. The picture is fabulous and the poem so painful and heart-rending.
This is another one I cried writing, and don't really like reading.
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