Dec 2013
This year alone, death has engulfed my soul
like euphoria entraps an addict.
Instead of getting high I'm falling low.
There is pain in my soul and it's not escaping any time soon.
There is a door in my brain that has been locked from the first day I understood somebody I knew died.
Somebody I loved died.
They were gone like a burst of wind we cannot chase, but feel ever so quickly.
It wasn't my grandmother.
Who at age three I loved completely.
By age four there was no more grandmother to help me keep score of life.
She was on the moon for all I knew and now I know better.
From age four to six I didn't question it.
By age seven I forgot, why my grandmother wasn't a forget me not
Why she didn't come back after she disappeared like the flowers do
BUT
I could never forgive and forget.
I could never forgive a God for taking family away from over ten little girls.
10 little girls from age three to age sixty
Mother, Sister, Cousin, Grandma, Friend
I could never forget that grandma = moon.
yet, when I look in the dark sky I find myself full of surprise when I think of her under the glow of a white orb.
Why
I'm not so sure because
the reasons have blurred
Why
I'm not so sure
They say white is the color of purity
It is what you see before death,
And that's what makes it frightening
And it's okay
I was young and every day carved its own way.
Games
Friends
Family
And I guess after one death people think it's the end, but when a man so great came to his fall my heart went down with him
My heart broke
My mouth moved, but soul never spoke.
He may have been the second death that hit me hard, but
He was the true first.
Then another man took the blunder.
Thee weeks in and he fell under under the spell of unlimited sleep
And I cried
For the injustice of leaving five kids young
One thirteen
And one Twelve
One nine
One three
and (another) one (one)
My eyes were waterfalls
Mist
Noise
Gushing water
Yet, what I lacked to acknowledge was within every waterfall there's a rainbow.
The crystals fell creating puddles of salty pins.
They hurt to step on.
They hurt to think.
They create tiny stab wounds within my heart
Within my brain
Within my faith
They create spaces of emptiness
Spaces of freedom
that i seep from till one day I'll end
Some people say one death is the end.
I say it's the beginning
like euphoria entraps an addict.
Instead of getting high I'm falling low.
There is pain in my soul and it's not escaping any time soon.
There is a door in my brain that has been locked from the first day I understood somebody I knew died.
Somebody I loved died.
They were gone like a burst of wind we cannot chase, but feel ever so quickly.
It wasn't my grandmother.
Who at age three I loved completely.
By age four there was no more grandmother to help me keep score of life.
She was on the moon for all I knew and now I know better.
From age four to six I didn't question it.
By age seven I forgot, why my grandmother wasn't a forget me not
Why she didn't come back after she disappeared like the flowers do
BUT
I could never forgive and forget.
I could never forgive a God for taking family away from over ten little girls.
10 little girls from age three to age sixty
Mother, Sister, Cousin, Grandma, Friend
I could never forget that grandma = moon.
yet, when I look in the dark sky I find myself full of surprise when I think of her under the glow of a white orb.
Why
I'm not so sure because
the reasons have blurred
Why
I'm not so sure
They say white is the color of purity
It is what you see before death,
And that's what makes it frightening
And it's okay
I was young and every day carved its own way.
Games
Friends
Family
And I guess after one death people think it's the end, but when a man so great came to his fall my heart went down with him
My heart broke
My mouth moved, but soul never spoke.
He may have been the second death that hit me hard, but
He was the true first.
Then another man took the blunder.
Thee weeks in and he fell under under the spell of unlimited sleep
And I cried
For the injustice of leaving five kids young
One thirteen
And one Twelve
One nine
One three
and (another) one (one)
My eyes were waterfalls
Mist
Noise
Gushing water
Yet, what I lacked to acknowledge was within every waterfall there's a rainbow.
The crystals fell creating puddles of salty pins.
They hurt to step on.
They hurt to think.
They create tiny stab wounds within my heart
Within my brain
Within my faith
They create spaces of emptiness
Spaces of freedom
that i seep from till one day I'll end
Some people say one death is the end.
I say it's the beginning
