Uncategorized

He’s Gone

In darkened room
I lie, willing blackness
to obliterate blackness.

A scream, unearthed
from dankness
shatters the silence,
echoes off heartless walls,

shock waves reverberate
relentless torment

seventeen years…
committed, no…
dedicated

ripped away

leaving me

nothing

I fall, spiral
reel out of control

breaking down

tomorrow,
the children will return
the house will fill again,
and I will pick up
these shards,
piece together
some semblance
of normalcy,
and begin
to rebuild

in the dark.

(Written for dVerse pub, where Lillian is hosting with a challenge to focus on time:  “To everything there is a season…”)

 

dreams · recovery

Under (Re)Construction

Stripped back constructs
of disguised suppression
stir hopeful postulations –

I am bare-boned, dreaming,
questioning realities marred
by incestuous suspicions,

intending renewal, probing
dank floorboards housing
codependent disharmony.

This state of disrepair
manifests ego-inundated
trivialities, reveals burial…

blackened circles of rage –
coffin-like – implode, emit
entombed screams – echo

tremors of past fault lines,
destabilizing augmentation –
the liability of renovation.