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Helen McKean Apr 2010
The safety of your arms
protects me from harming myself
out of curiosity,
leashed to your control
keeps me from flying higher than you,
your *******
lordingly rules over my passive acquiescence.
I proclaim my independence
but am forced to let you carry me,
I make my own decisions
as long as they make you happy,
I speak my mind freely
depending on what you like to hear,
because upsetting you would mean
that I would have to live for myself -
my one fear which I dream of overcoming,
my one dream I am too scared to attempt.
you say I should stand up for what I believe,
yet every time I timidly rise
you degradingly suggest I sit down.
as you tell me I am free
we both subconsciously know
your superiority has again obstructed your justice,
you are giving me no chances before I even ask,
you have already determined my value as less than yours,
and you have destined my fate to be insignificant and foolish.
I dare to resist
and your eyes promptly glare,
fiendishly laughing,
because you know that as the words leave my lips
I am already defeated,
and that you have again been victorious
in this sadistic game of power -
and you know that you will always win.
January 1998
Brian McDonagh Jan 2019
Her mom was one call away;
Even though Christy didn't have her own phone,
She had the number ready to dial.
In the long run, she couldn't make the call
In borrowing access to another's phone.

I lent her my phone...more than one time.

I noticed Christy asking for rides,
A frequent sight
Around Walmart's outdoor campus.
I couldn't take back what I saw,
So I offered to ride her.
Christy rose from neutral emotions
To cheery.
After all, at least she could be inside somewhere
Even in fleeting time.

I drove her...more than one time

After a while, it wasn't "I don't know you"
And "You don't know me."
Not even "Since it's Christmas..."
Could sum this interaction.
Instead, Christy and I eating
McDonald's breakfast burritos
Is the best way I can describe
Our encounter:
A hunger to help,
A hunger to be helped.

I ate those burritos...more than one time
For her sake.
I firmly believe those burritos will not be
Her last supper.

I drove Christy during the day
And under the drapery of night,
One instance with her friend Lisa,
Another moment that ended
With my yelling voice unleashed
Toward Christy's mother.
Then a detour to the Emergency Room,
Good Christy vomiting outside
The passenger door along the road.

Yet, Christy navigated my driving...more than one time.

Christy wasn't a fan of needles,
But grudgingly accepted the IV
That she foresaw in her medical visit.
She succumbed to X-Ray scans,
The blood pressure strap,
And the nocturnal waiting.

"Maybe we should go...you look tired," Christy glared at me.
"I'm fine...I want to see you well first," I urged.
Christy didn't budge at my response...
She signed a release, and we left.

Her lips spun her two lip piercings...more than one time.

"Do I look funny?" Christy asked me at one point.
The best I could say, in order to not just say what she wanted to hear,
Was: "You look how you look."

We looked for hotels for Christy...more than one time.

She was at the Heritage,
But a police incident removed
The lodgers the night of the scene.
Christy was at the Relax,
But the manager was missing a kind heart
And the room had roaches.
We tried the Days Inn.
Beyond our affordability.
Christy settled with the Knights Inn
After mid-knight.

My arguing created another situation:
I thought I saw Christy getting food from someone else.
[My, what assumptions can ruin]
She cried because of my sudden accusation.
Even my immediate turn-around apology
Couldn't mend my errors right then.  

Christy started losing hope that I,
Or we (my mom included),
Couldn't help her; limitation started to take
The upper hand.
Christy, who had suicidal intentions before,
Restored them from the way she carelessly
And degradingly spoke of herself.

"I'm NOT going to the Bethany House!" Christy insisted.
Christy repelled the Bethany House...more than one time.

I drove Christy to my mom's church,
Christy carelessly approving.
A friend of my mom's tried to talk Christy
Into staying on the course of help,
But Christy wanted to just go back to Walmart,
To panhandle.
I understood her desire to do so,
But we could have helped her.

She ran off at Sheetz
With her garbage bag of belongings.
Saying "Christy" multiple times
Made Christy ignore me even more.

We all deserve a chance...more than one time,
But some will want more than one more time.
Not an easy experience, but poetry is the hard-to-accept as well.

— The End —