Captive

I cry for him, he does not know,

Though, while my tears flow, I worry

And curse myself for not being fit enough

 

At teaching him those things he should know

Better than to do

When away from home,

How to stay true to himself

 

When all others try

to encourage him to do or die

and mischief-make,

or get high.

 

Why is it that others help take

Away that innocence with which we’re born,

And throw us to the wolves?

-we’re torn asunder-

And it’s up to our mothers to mourn

 

Our loss,

So much more than just our physical state.

Those lines we cross

Are simply the bait used to capture

 

And enslave the soul.

 

*Youngest kid is having a couple of very bad weeks at school and I am reminded of some things I did at the same age which resulted in my mom and stepdad using a very extreme form of punishment (but very inventive at the time) to correct my behavior. They took me to the police station near our home and left me sitting in the car with my mom while she discussed why what I did was wrong. My stepdad went inside the building and when he came out he “confirmed” that they did take 7 year-olds to kids’ jail. What did I do that required such an extreme measure? I took some Kool-Aid and candy from the grocery store without paying. Mind you, my mom caught me before we even got out of the store and I had to apologize to both the store manager, whom my mom called over, and to the register clerk. Let’s just say I learned my lesson. But between Tornado’s behavior lately and remembering my own at his age it got me to thinking about how many kids don’t have someone who cares enough for them to help them. And so, their mother’s mourn their loss, both the innocence and the soul that had so much potential.

Thoughts At 4 A.M.

The dog is having a nightmare and whimpers in her sleep

while the other feels lost and alone and unloved because I am

making him sleep in his own bed instead of next to me under the top blanket

where he feels safe and secure and warm.

The cat sleeps on my feet and moves to shove her head into my face

so I’ll pet her because for whatever reason,

 

4 a.m. is the time when

I should be awake to offer them attention.

And then I remember the paperwork I forgot to fill out and turn in to the

school counselor by 8 a.m. so it’s up and to the computer and finish that

-thank heavens for email or then I’d have to stay up-

(except that it’s due by noon and I see that only AFTER I finish filling it out)

and really, I should fill out the other form but what’s the use when I won’t be

approved for the assistance anyway,

 

and besides, it’s not so much to really need help

with paying after all, if only they could wait until mid-month.

Then there’s the bills I’m behind on and how much longer I can

get away with pushing them off until the next payday.

There’s the constant worrying over how my newly graduated son

is going to be able to be on his own when he is still so immature

and needs so many more skills that he refuses to learn.

How bad a parent am I that I haven’t taught him how to survive

…except even I’m struggling so how can I think I could possibly teach him?

 

Then there’s the growing tension between Him and I,

a constant bruise that never goes away. I struggle to not

fall back into a rut and fear that’s where He wants me to be again

while He tries to force me to be what He thinks He wants me to be,

and I can’t be that, and so the tension keeps mounting and I don’t know

how much longer it can go on when He keeps jabbing and poking and pushing

 

and accusing and saying things that aren’t true.

He’s trying to get a reaction,

-because nothing else makes sense and He doesn’t understand why I can’t make Him happy-

-because it’s not me who can do that, it’s Him and he struggles with this concept-

and when He does it makes Him angry and retaliative,

and it’s all just too much.

I’m going to break.

 

Adulting sucks and I don’t know why I was in such a hurry to grow up

when all my life I saw how hard it was in the example my parents set before me.

And no one else is up,

just me

and the noises of a sleeping household:

a whirring fan, an air conditioner hum, sprinklers coming on outside,

 

the hushed breaths of those lucky enough to find sleep

a dear friend who visits every night

while I sit here typing away trying to shut the madness of worry out,

and hoping I can strain enough of these teeming concerns through

a mental sieve

and let my heavy eyelids fall

and shut out the world.

 

*I’m participating in National Poetry Writing Month this year and this is my offering for Day 3’s prompt, which is to write a story or action that takes place over time. I wrote about the thoughts that go through my head during a time when I can’t sleep. 

Winter’s Shades

Walk with me through Winter’s woods,

Trees bare of spring and summer fashions,

For it’s easy to walk alone while the sun’s heat

Floods the air

And roses bloom in profusion.

 

It’s only when the trees disrobe

And the roses undress,

Their thorny nakedness

And broken veins exposed,

That winter’s beauty

Can cover them in sparkling jewels.

 

And if not for the biting cold

We would not cling together

For warmth

Or look to another for comfort

When the darkness sets in.

Gathering Skeletons

 

I am gathering skeletons

Of human error;

Lurking in the corners

Of my life – rattling,

Refusing to

Collect dust

#OctPoWriMo Day 13-If I Were You

If I Were You

By Jesi Scott

 

If I were you

If you were me

Perhaps you’d see

Perhaps you’d be

The one I’d crave

The one to save

Save my life

Save my world

World in my heart

World torn apart

Apart from this

Apart and dismissed

Dismissed from here

Dismissed to disappear

Disappear from life

Disappear from view

View my hurt

View my pain

Pain everlasting

Pain forecasting

Forecasting to amend

Forecasting the end

End the history

End my misery

Misery of us

Misery in exodus

Exodus of the end

Exodus to begin

Begin again

Begin and feign

Feign these feelings

Feign these meanings

Meanings that lie

Meanings that cry

Cry a river

Cry and deliver

Deliver the package

Deliver the message

Message left behind

Message that’s over

Over and out

Over and without

Without a word

Without a doubt

Doubt you

Doubt me

Me in truth

Me so obvious

Obvious

Truth.

 

* Day 13: to express to someone your point of view using a Blitz poem, not my favorite form. I decided to put more thought and interest in it by making it rhyme as much as I could and to try and make it a little more challenging.

Mending A Broken Heart

I held his heart in my hands

In pieces shattered, a broken land.

“Can you fix it?” he’d asked

While I stared at the impossible task.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said,

Placing a kiss on his forehead.

I sat and pondered and tried to start

But how best to mend his broken heart?

With needle and thread to keep it together?

Not glue; too weak for changes in weather…

Metal would give it strength,

But time and rust would wear its length.

So I thought and then thought some more

Until the answer came as if called for.

I began putting the pieces back one by one,

Working throughout the daytime sun

And on through the darkening night,

Continuing on despite

The pain in my back and bleeding fingertips,

Making sure there’d be no rips.

Then one day I was done,

And I smiled at the war I’d won.

For when you breathed life into their chests

You knew, for them, you’d never rest.

So when my son’s heart was broken

I listened to the words spoken

From my own, and heeded what they’d said,

Then gave him my whole one instead.

And with the love I’ve never denied

I sewed up the pieces of his then closed it inside

Myself.

Last Request

Now I lay me down to sleep.

For my bones, do not weep.

 

I do not lay here wanting grief;

In my rest I’ve found relief.

 

No more worrying over day to day affairs;

No more crying over unhappy cares.

 

In the earth I now have peace;

In the quiet all has ceased.

 

All my sorrows are washed away;

No more suffering, no more dismay.

 

Weep not, I say, for what is gone

Look to others, look to your own.

 

Care for those who continue to struggle,

Care for those who cannot juggle

 

The mind’s chess game with them as pawn.

Weep for the living, those who walk alone.

 

Turn your eyes and hands to them,

Let your love be their stem.

 

For it may be their life was spared

Because of you and those who cared

 

To see the pain behind their tears,

Who understood and calmed their fears.

 

Then come the morning and the rising sun

Come to me and say, “Thy will was done.”

 

And I will smile in my sleep

Because you did not weep.

 

*Probably a good idea to not snack too close to bedtime…you know, in case you wake up crying from a dream you can’t remember and the lines to a poem running through your head and neither will let you get back to sleep.

Matins

What thoughts endeavor to pierce the brain

as we keep watch in the darkling night,

the slumbering stillness

of the breath held

until the stars blink and yawn, stretch,

and fade with the lightening sky.

 

While the earth waits and shadows play games,

visions of past wrongs accuse,

demand justice: atonement or forgiveness,

and peace comes on the horizon

by light or by blood.

 

*Had a completely different poem enter my head but I was caught in the middle of something and couldn’t write it down right away. The only line that I kept was “by light or by blood”. I was thinking of a story I heard about the Crusades, how the men would keep watch in the night before battle and other similar stories. I then had a memory of someone telling me long ago that matins was a version of that (to keep evil from coming in the night) and my brain correlated that with depression. Many is the time I have battled my thoughts in the dark and with the dawn sleep came, and a small semblance of peace. But there were times when, in the darkest point of the night, that I thought I wouldn’t make it. By light or by blood; life or death.

Removing Oneself from the Equation

 

Say you never hurt me. Say it again.

Because maybe then, as you say it, it will be true.

Yes, this is how we are now. This is how we’ve always been,

You’ve just ignored your part in the process.

As you said, actions speak louder than words,

and, baby, your actions are a fucking war zone.

Go ahead, say you never hurt me.

The scars on my heart tell a different story.

As I lay me down

And as I lay me down to sleep
I wonder if my soul will keep
Or take the chance of winged flight
Returning with the morning light