Scalding sobs
Cheap rough rag
scrub, scald, sob
it away
pointless
you don’t want it gone
you want the pain
the rawness
on the outside
Instead of in.
Author: Julia Clevenger
Closer
I wish I was back there
where the world was
quiet and scared of me
Where I was raw
with pain and
grief was new
I want to be back there
On the drought tight land
and walked on shells
Where the ocean
knew I was dead too
and called me
to silently slip in
Who
Who in their right mind
keeps the ashes
of their dead child
On the bottom shelf
of her nightstand
under the romance novels,
loose change and phone cords
Who in their right mind
refuses to bury
their dead child
In the hard ground
under the dried grass,
rocks, and plastic flowers
Sometimes
I won’t brush my teeth
to taste the staleness
of my lost mind
I won’t shower to smell
the waste of time
on my skin
I won’t sleep for hours
to soak the anxiety
into my bones
I won’t comb my hair
to avoid the lie
of being in control
I won’t listen to you
to stay my murderous thoughts
and jealous heart
Sometimes
I don’t do any of those things
Audi
This time i brought her memories home in the trunk
Just months after I brought her home in there
From Tucson where they were
From the garage where she had stored them
to know they were there
to one day share
with the boy she gave birth to
who is now being raised by her replacement
To help his daddy survive.
The body and blood of grief
Nerves- too overloaded to control
Brain – too confused to explain
Heart – too heavy to open
Lungs – too empty to gasp
Stomach – too upset to digest
Throat – too tight to scream
Hands – too shaky to hold
Back – too weak to bear it
Regrets
The regrets churn in me
The lost time
and distracted moments
The missing of it all
while I lived my life.
She would never say so
But without her
to tell me no
I am convinced.
Wrong
Beauty was the trigger today
some would say she
lives there now
In that beauty
the sunlight on the rocks
and in the sparkle of the water
in the pink of a sunrise
and the red of the sunset
She lives in the light
and I in the shadows
cold and hard and frightening
ready, always now,
for what lurks there.
Village
It takes a village to bury a child, I read
But I haven’t buried mine
She remains, her remains
in the bag that I brought
her home in – in the
trunk of my car
from Tucson
where they killed her
Because the horror of
her being in a purple grocery bag
on my nightstand
does not yet outweigh
the confusion
of burying her
Defenders? Judges? Justice?
Work hard to do your best at a mission you believe in?
No room for the pain?
or all room for their pain?
Know me and where would you go?
Know her and pray it away?
Know him and take pride?
Your purpose, drive, vocation?
Traded for him, her, me?
What can you do?
Change the formula, the process?
Complacent or Compliant?
It’s the only thing we have?
No it’s what we have been left with
After the money is dolled out
for your rent and food and cars and drinks.
Status quo suits you.