Missing girls possessions
Parents obsessions

Doll, clothes, shoes
the parents mull over
they’ll never recover

She’s being missing two months now
still her parents row
“I want her back, NOW”

Recrimination
protestation
Desperation
DESPAIR

Her mum has a frame
with a snip of her hair
she takes it out
and feels it with care
Its her treasure
nothing else can measure
Remembering

Her dad has her favourite book
he keeps it in a secret nook
often compelled to have a look
Remembering

Every morning they run to the door
to meet the postman
first name terms now “Dan”
“Sorry folks, nothing today”
they go inside and pray

She’s no longer headline news
everybody has their views
about which they opine
often over a glass of wine

The parents separate
Can no longer operate
Both consumed by guilty memories
suspicious of each others queries

they no longer gel
trapped in private hell

They need to mourn
but as long as shes still missing
there’s hope
that’s how they cope

I can’t imagine their sadness
hanging on verge of madness

Why am I so frightened
To say I'm me
And publicly acknowledge
My small mastery?
Waiting for sixty years
Till the people take out the horses
And draw me to the theatre
With triumphant voices?
I know this won't happen
Until it's too late
And the deed done (or not done)
So I prevaricate, Egging
them on and keeping
Roads open (just in case)
Go on! Go on and do it
In my place!
Giving love to get it
(The only way to behave).
But hated and naked
Could I stand up and say
*******! or, Be my slave!
To be in a very unfeminine
Very unloving state
Is the desperate need
Of anyone trying to write.

Face to face, we sit here, knowing full well what the future holds for us. We sit here, with both our minds racing, finding it hard to catch thoughts to place on our tounges and roll out as if this is easy. This is the hardest thing ive ever done. With sorrow drowning our eyes and thoughts projecting through mine, I know where we'll end up. I know that no matter what I say or do, I cant fix anything and that leaves me broken down, waving the white flag in defeat as the rain starts pooring down my face. Youre here infront of me, but youre gone. We take eachother into one anothers arms for one last time, detangling our hearts string from string. My arms are empty again. I look down at them, just to make sure my eyes arent deceiving me. But its the truth, youre gone and im see-through. These earthquakes turn to sunamis and these plains crash until the very last one has bursted into flames, causing nothing but a disaster inside of me. You've left your mark on not only my heart, but my skin as well and once these marks are gone, im left with nothing but these memories and an abandoned house for a heart.


(c)SeanaseaWallen 2010

you hung
suspended.

i watched you sail
led only by
gusts of wind
and car exhaust

i imagined you were a kite
or a song
imagined pushing you
with my thoughts towards the water

greedily
i watched you
hang

while
amplifying the sunset.

You're present
when I hear this song.
As if our moments in time
and futures unknown
should belong.

One hears the sound of water
that you hold so dear,
Washing away regret with
all that you fear.

Its rhythm flows
with a simple dark ease,
Facing your story's past
to erase or appease.

Its tempo jumps deep
to be fully fluent,
Voicing your love of life
and become its servant.

Its beat rises to meet
your way of being,
Allowing each climb
to be fleeting.

The song takes its time
to bring us through,
To savor each moment
as a beautiful view.

C. . .
I hope you
like this song,
this ballad.
Oh, I hope I got it right.
I felt your presence,
heard this song,
and wrote this ditty
just tonight.