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terry-collettPoems
Sometimes, my son, I just want to be numb; I want to wake to bird song and fresh morning air, not human voice, not the distant traffic's hum. Sometimes, my son, I want the numbness to envelope me, to swallow me whole, to keep out the hurt and pain, the breaking up of heart and ache of head, pretending you're not dead. The numbness, my son, how it seems to put things in perspective, allows the past to dissolve into a vague series of images, hoping to be lost, forgetting the cost. Sometimes, Ole, I want to be numb, need the feelings to go, the pain to ease, the last words to freeze. Only the drugged sleep aids, my son, only the dreamless sleep like sister death, helps me for a few hours to unwind the inner clock's wound up spring. Sometimes, my son, the drugs don't work, the pain remains, and I don't want the drink to take hold again to numb the pain. Sometimes, my son, I just want a numbness to ease, the words be temporally forgotten, the visions seen, packed away for another day, when I feel stronger, when the loss of you, hurts less(if ever), and the night to day questions come less or do so no longer. Some days, my son, I just want to be numb.
0
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
SOME TIMES MY SON.
Sometimes, my son, I just want to be numb; I want to wake to bird song and fresh morning air, not human voice, not the distant traffic's hum. Sometimes, my son, I want the numbness to envelope me, to swallow me whole, to keep out the hurt and pain, the breaking up of heart and ache of head, pretending you're not dead. The numbness, my son, how it seems to put things in perspective, allows the past to dissolve into a vague series of images, hoping to be lost, forgetting the cost. Sometimes, Ole, I want to be numb, need the feelings to go, the pain to ease, the last words to freeze. Only the drugged sleep aids, my son, only the dreamless sleep like sister death, helps me for a few hours to unwind the inner clock's wound up spring. Sometimes, my son, the drugs don't work, the pain remains, and I don't want the drink to take hold again to numb the pain. Sometimes, my son, I just want a numbness to ease, the words be temporally forgotten, the visions seen, packed away for another day, when I feel stronger, when the loss of you, hurts less(if ever), and the night to day questions come less or do so no longer. Some days, my son, I just want to be numb.
A FATHER TALKS TO HIS DEAD SON.
terry-collett
Written by
terry-collett
English
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
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