A Mothers Gift of Suicide
Each drop that lay congealing.Hardened pools of hearts blood feeling.Stacked higher to a ceiling which is seemingly without end or sight of this sorrow swelling.I can't stop or staunch the sound of silence so keenly suicidal.Tapestries hung from the seething keening.See this warp and weft of weeping.Broken languidly so looming of a thread cut selfishly assuming.She took Her Life.The selfless one S
he gave to Me,when the Daughter that I am to Her,She who bore and gave to Me.The very same,exactly like in every way,each drop by drop . Lifes very blood I hold in keeping a Thrumming of My Mothers Weeping.Oh Mother Wherefore Art Thou?Dost Thou Hear Thy Childs Lament?In One Fell Strroke You Wasted Time.Every Moment That We Would Spend.The Only Thing of Worth To Me I See In Faded Things.Her Pictures are Like Memories That God Will Never Bring.As Answers Heard on Dead Deaf Ears, a Cacophony of Screams ,are all I ever Hear.Sorrowed Horrors That I Bear, Tolling Woe and Days of This Despair.My Mother Bequeathed to Me the Day She Thought To Teach Me the Only Answer That I Contemplate When I Feel That Lifes Unfair.I Think This Day I'll Take This Gift She Gave To Me When I Was Born.Born Up On My Cold Dead Hands and Show The Way She Truly Taught Me Truly How To Care. A Mothers Gift Of Suicide James Patrick Kail Tuesday November 6th 2012
|