Hopeless or Blues Poem
Tortured Soul
I'll never know why
I know that now
why my son chose to take his own life.
I watch my husband in grief
My daughter despair
I stand and I look and I cry.
Each day I still hope
for relief from this pain
that penetrates down to my core.
Each morning I awake
from a nightmare night
and then he’s dead all over again.
Each hour brings the knife
cutting my heart out
one tiny sliver at a time.
I’ll bow my head now
in submission and grief
I’m too tired to fight anymore.
You see I’m not human
just a cavern of pain
a tortured soul with no where to go.
Judy Roney
Nov 24, 2008
3 comments:
So much insight Judy. You just seem to have an endless well of very powerful works to pull out of your heart--and they do indeed feel like the come from your heart. Write on! Hugs
I understand, Judy, the grief does not go away. This poem really expresses that in an intense way, no words spared.
"and then he's dead all over again" I know. I know.
Post a Comment