The loneliness of winter rain

the-loneliness-of-winter-rainI searched your grave

for signs of you

there was nothing there

only winter rain

running down stone

like my tears

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The fallen

the-fallen

It was in the evening of your life

when your body gave way

and you sank to the floor.

Even though I wasn’t there

I have never stopped seeing you fall

over and over again.

You had been falling for years.

As the memories came

so the questions flew at you

like arrows,

each one piercing your armour,

allowing fear in through the holes,

fear that you might get found out.

I tried to fool myself into believing

it was guilt that was crippling you

but now the final pieces

have slotted together

and I know better

than to think good of you.

Even as you sat me on your lap

and sang to me,

making me believe I was special and loved,

you were giving me away

to the highest bidder

It was my money

that bought your house.

I paid for that house with my sanity

but you died

and left me with nothing

but the hatred in my heart.

You are gone now

You will never take back the blame

that was rightfully yours

and you will never know

my forgiveness.

 

Ghost

a tragic loss of life
said the headlines
I cry for the people
who set out
one rainy November morning
only to have their life
suddenly and unexpectedly
end
I was just a child when
it happened to me
but no one cried for me
no one mourned my loss
no one even noticed
the death of me
they forced my uncooperative limbs
into sleeves and socks
and pushed and dragged me
through a childhood
unremembered
a small
and murdered
ghost
pale and cold
I haunted classrooms
and birthday parties
and at night
he used my lifeless body
over and over
but he couldn’t hurt me any more
I was gone

Dear Uncle

Before you die
I want you to know
that I remember what you did to me
all of it.
The little child you
used up and threw away
soiled and damaged
of no further interest,
and the unhappy teen
that you ridiculed
I understand now that you did that
to try to discredit me
you were afraid of me
afraid that I would tell
afraid that my wildness
meant that you had lost control
you moved your family
far away
you ran
and now I know
I am the one
with all the power
I could take your precious reputation
as the golden boy, everybody’s favourite
and crunch it to dust
under my feet.
I could turn you into an outsider
cast out by your own family
they would turn from you
in disgust
When you die
I will visit your grave
and leave an epitaph
of my own there
and you can spend
all the ages of time
rotting beneath it.

Mother

You don’t call me any more
and grief washes over me anew,
another death among the many.
I watch you disappearing
one memory at a time
my heart breaking with each loss.
You no longer remember my childhood,
that battleground where your tongue
cut me into small pieces
until I was nothing but anger
just like you.
If you have forgotten our warring
do you still remember
making peace,
apologies and forgiveness,
the newly planted seeds of love between us,
can they still grow?
The silent creeping disease
has stolen your anger
and replaced it with
a childlike vulnerability,
you cry real tears now.
The one thing that endures and remains
is that you love me now.
I have finally let you into my heart,
please don’t let me lose that again,
we have had so little time
to be mother and daughter.

To an unknown man

to-an-unknown-man

I never knew you

but I remember your grave,

black and imposing,

reflecting the moon.

I remember the feel of

the slick black marble

cold against my skin.

I remember the bitter smell

of small dead creatures

hidden in crevices

behind broken stone statues

with angel wings.

I died on your grave

and was resurrected

as a small and insignificant ghost,

unseen.

After long years I returned

and looked down on

your benevolent faded grandeur

I wondered if you remembered me,

that small screaming child,

and if it made you sad

that your grave was a place of terror,

and I realised

that I had never had anything to fear

from the dead.