A lifetime of trying
just to save myself...
chase the trauma...
Something in the tone
of how she yelled
"Girls, come here."
Not loud,
but frantic,
helpless.
She had hold
of his ankles
protruding
and she pulled.
Hard.
Not hard enough.
"Does strength
retreat or intensify
during times of great stress?"
Either way,
up under
the high bed
He was dead weight.
wouldn't budge.
Worked my way
Beneath his shoulders.
One hand at a time,
while time slowed.
Pushed against him,
felt him slide
excruciatingly small
the distance he went.
But enough to move
where we could do more good.
She pulled again
as I pushed,
bringing him into the daylight.
His breath shallow,
she worked on him,
as I called the ambulance.
They ask to talk to
an adult.
She can't come to the phone
I tell them...
Or he'll die...
An accidental (?) overdose...
They believe me,
when they hear her urgent
pleas to him ..
..Not to let go...
..Not to leave us
..To keep breathing.
Time slows
She pats his face.
Feels his pulse.
Over and over
until they arrive
the picture of efficiency.
"You did good, sweetheart"...
she says at the other
end of the line.
"How old are you?"
she asked...
"older than you" I reply...
I was 10,
and it wasn't
the first time
or his last.
Author notes
Written April 8th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Thank you for such kind words. Thank you for taking the time to read and to encourage.
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Excellent
This was a very impressive write Apparition. I could feel the urgency and the raw emotion of the situation. I liked the format of the poem and the use of very few words to tell your story. I thought it worked out well. The ending was also very revealing that it wasn't the first time nor the last. good job. -
Sometimes just putting it down into words helps, sometimes not.
So many times there are no hard and fast answers as to how to best let go of the past. There may be months with no thought to it, then the past edges in silently and forces you to look it in the eye. Thank you for reading and for commenting. Always appreciated. -
The spacing would usually be a major killer to me, as I haven't ever been that fond of poems that leave four or five spaces between each stanza, but this poem has the impact of a meteor.
Your repetition of certain words actually works and the ideas expressed are penetrating and realistically brutal.
This is a scene I could have witnessed as story on the news, on a talk show or experienced myself and that gives it a universal appeal that many poems lack.
This was a wonderful reading experience. Thank you for sharing.
All the best,
James
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Was my Dad, Leo. He made it through, ok. Was hospitalized, of course, to treat the addiction once he was stabilized.
I do need to do a bit of editing. -
very powerful poem. gut-wrenching to read and think about.
I like your title. this really is looking through a dark window into the past, isn't it. that's always a painful thing to do.
good writing!
~travis
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Now you have me thinking which isn't necessarily good at this time of morning..lol. I wonder who this was and how or if he's related to you and what was the eventual outcome of the crisis?
Anyway it made for some interesting reading. Thanks for sharing it with me.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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