Without Warning
a memory
Then, without warning
came the holidays and an urgent, authoritative summoning
never an easy time to deal with my obstinance
and previously scheduled commitments
or recoil from a time of reckoning
They say that love is found
in the intersection between grief and despair.
In one moment I felt I had lost more than her smiles and candy kisses
and the warmth of her kitchen where I played as a child,
and had run away from towards the jaws of destruction
she was my safety net, but now, even she was gone
and I sit upon her bench
the one that she had restored and reupholstered
that I can’t bear to donate to the thrift shoppe
I tell myself, if I can hold on to one materialistic thing
that could keep her closer,
it still would not ease my conscience
or atone for my sins
Writing these words is my morphine
in an ‘etagere’ of medication and magic bullets
I need no other drug
to escape the pain and the sadness
and maybe that is why, without warning, I am so messed up
