He lay broken at the foot of his empty bed.
A place his wife,
once laid her head.
She cries in oceans where he used to play.
The son she lost,
haunts even her –
brightest days.
They know what I know.
A creaking vessel of pain.
They see what I see.
A wandering hurt with no name.
Our memories are congested,
with betrayal and death.
We grab hold to the handrails,
that have been left.
They know what I know.
And by the look in your eyes,
and pain residue,
this un-welcomed knowledge,
also sleeps in you.
Very nice, Jess. We all carry pain in our own way.
Yes we do, thank you for reading. π
ugh..the child dying sent me spinning…trying to find those hand rails…heavy with emotion…nice…
Thank you Brian!
A moving piece of writing Jessica…glad I stopped by. // Peter.
I am glad you stopped by too, thank you. π
I was immediately drawn in to the suffering and pain. The picture is amazing, too. This was evocative.
Thanks Lori! I love the picture too, it fit well. π
tender, elegant poem, Jessica…x j
Thank you Jenne. xo
An intensely powerful and moving poem. This struck many chords with me. It possesses an economy of language and an impressive authenticity.
Well crafted. James.
Thank you James, I appreciate your lovely compliments. π xo
you conjured memories of moments when another’s grief or sadness was utterly palpable
Thank you Kim. π
Your words, and that painting are amazing!!
Such sadness, him on the bed. I can see him, his lonely posture.
Thank you so much Jannie! xo
Grabbing the handrails of life that we have been left…that is what has to happen to keep going when life happens to us…nice one shot Jess..bkm
Thank you bkm… you are so right. π xo
emotional, tender, elegant.. a lot of emotions that flowed through this poem..
My Post Is Here
Thank you Vinay. π
I like how you gave a few examples and then left it open-ended to include pain from any source…
Thank you beautiful. π
much shows in everyone’s eyes if we take the time to really look. a sensitive, poignant poem.
Thank you so much for stopping by. I am happy you enjoyed it.