Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
He said
I ...
I ...
I !...
my...
my... my...
I did this ...
I did that...
I am better now!
Talking
Talking, talking!
Tears well up in my eyes.
A few fall,
Heartbroken
Again
Heartbroken
A few fall,
Talking
I am better now!
I did that...
I did this ...
My... my...
my...
I ...
I ...
I 'm going
to the shop
I'm okay now.

He come over to kiss me.
Seeing a tear
He said, Are you okay?
As he looked away.

I said
When will it be
A we?

He said
I ...
I ...
I !...
my...
my... my...

Today I became a bit deaf.
Today I stopped hurting
Apathy
Becoming silent
To Realize
I am alone.

He says,
it's  just his T.B.I.
After the 100th time
I think
He needs his own way
To feel in control
To feel  o.k.
Yet
I am
Beginning
to feel
a bit
uncomfortably
numb
A repeating
Pattern
A repeating pain

In between
We are okay
There is still Love
Yet I need support
Because
After a T.B.I.
Life is never the same.
There are challenges living with a disability for the person with the disability and  for the family members caring for the disabled person. A caregiver who does not have support experiences struggles, pain, hardship too. This poem is about the caregivers need for a supportive community.
bekka walker May 2018
If I let my eyes glaze over just right, I get a nice film quality picture.
I hover out of my body- like a mad director, evaluating what we've got, I snip the film strips from my memory, franticaly re-piecing together the story.
I didn't get the shots I wanted.
I feel hollow and sick.
Playing and re-playing the scenes where it all went to the dregs.
Maybe if I were paying closer attention- I could have gotten it right.
I could've rearranged the shot list- so "major life accident" was at the end of the movie- not the beginning.  

Sorting through what we're left with,
I hear no mellow music scoring my mothers choked sobs.
No soft glow to hide the harsh lines of grief described on her face.
The bottles of liquor weren't props.
And when the sound of silence rendered her breathless-
no one was there to yell "CUT"!
I grit my teeth and hold back my seething anger at such a **** writer.

This is not a sci-fi film.
No alien plummets to earth eager to turn back the sands of time because there was a fluke in the configubobulator.

Not a romantic comedy,
where his smashed body miraculously recovers and my mother, him, and all the kids pursue their dreams as a family of comics on the road- The jackson 5 of stand up!

No inspiring action film where the government tests a bionic exoskeleton, connects it to his brains nervous system, and after wild success he dedicates his life to intergalactic vigilante work, as well as a remaining a reliable family man.

There's no sending it back for re-writes.

There is no 1 hero to lean on.
No villain to hate.
Only us.
I hope one day, it's enough.

I hope one day we have a film we can be proud of.
5 years ago my step father, my hero, suffered a severe traumatic brain injury at the hands of a motorcycle accident. Today, he's bed ridden- and can't even **** himself. Leaving my mother, and 6 kids.

— The End —