I watch myself go through
this pain:

I am slamming down
the phone

the tears of my
anger, grief, and confusion
spill out now

the voice on the telephone
still tells me to keep waiting,
keep waiting, keep waiting
keep waiting

I am slamming my fists
against the wall

it hurts,
everything hurts,
I yell at the gods
and curse fate

I am lying alone
in the darkness,
silently wrestling
with my demons

I am confessing all my sins

I am asking her what she
thinks I should do

I am listening to her,
hanging on each word,
each thought

I am fighting back,
correcting her mistakes,
trying to make her
understand the state
I’m in

I am crying in her arms
and she whispers to me,
“ do what makes you
happy”

I am fighting with that
wise advice

the truth and the bitterness
in it

the fire as I must drink it
down

I am taking long swigs of it,
cringing as it runs past my
throat and into my stomach

I am feeling the relief
of decision

I am slamming down the telephone

I am listening to that voice
deny me

telling me “keep waiting,
keep waiting, keep waiting,
keep waiting.”

“everything changes in time”

I am looking at myself in disgust

I am looking at the future with disgust

I am making my case once again,
this time in person,
this time
not to a voice
on the
telephone

I am making them believe

I am feeling the relief of approval,
the cool rush of recognition

I am still shaking

I am still not done

I am still watching myself writhe
with guilt and struggle with doubt

I am now confident though

I am now sure of the path I take,
of the future I pursue

I am watching myself
go through this pain,
again

I am slamming down the telephone
and redoubling my efforts

oh
what tragedy

the people most deserving
of the whole world
are those who think
otherwise

the people most deserving
of happiness
are those deep in the pits
of depression

oh
what *tragedy

Like a captain aboard a sinking vessel,
he waits for the last passenger to disembark.
But if that passenger refuses to be saved,
does that make the captain loyal or foolish?
Either way,
it's a tragedy too painful to watch.

"You came," her voice floated in the white
"Of course I came," I knew she was behind me
But I couldn't turn, only feel her hair touching my back
"It's a good sign." Her voice was a million echoing silver bells
"I guess I've started to realize..."
Her fingertips brushed my palm, light as wind.
"I have realized that it wasn't my fault"
"I told you it was a good sign"
In the corner of my eye, I saw strands of her hair, fluttering
"I miss you." I wanted see her, see her smile, white teeth and dimple
"I miss you too," her silver bell voice rung out sadly
"I can never forgive myself," my voice shook, my eyes burned
"Don't say that, it's not true"
Flowers underneath us were red, yellow and sky blue
"I should have been there, I should have always been with you"
My every atom ached for her, to turn and see her
I could remember the smell of waking up beside her
Starting my day with a wonder by my side
"Forgive yourself please, for me"
A flower was slipped into my hand, it was yellow
I turned and I saw her, she wore the garb of an angel
She smiled before she disappeared
Leaving me crying in the red, yellow and sky blue.

My wife, a psychiatrist, sleeps
through my reading and writing in bed,
the half-whispered lines,
manuscripts piled between us,

but in the deep part of night
when her beeper sounds
she bolts awake to return the page
of a patient afraid he'll **** himself.

She sits in her robe in the kitchen,
listening to the anguished voice
on the phone. She becomes
the vessel that contains his fear,

someone he can trust to tell
things I would tell to a poem.