In The Hanging Garden (January 28, 2018)

Casted adrift

Into a sea of darkness

Without any sense of direction

Or reason

Why.

Searching for a past

Long buried

In hate and ignorance

Of being different.

A minority sublimated

By the majority

Without questioning

Why.

Lost of self-identity

Imposed denial

Cultural genocide

That consumes

One's soul.

Regardless

Of one's inner strength

No one is asking

Why.

Where death is

Often seen

As the only solution

For life's injustices.

And yet

Are reluctant to change

Without wondering

Why.

Where one's greed

And self-agenda

Are often measured

In the lives lost.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Just some thoughts that have been floating in my head.

Patchwork Girl (January 28, 2008) Part 4 of 4

A few false steps

In finding Ellie's grave

Appreciating the personal space

Of a few moments alone

Before joining me.

Placing your hands

On my shoulders

In support and love.

Silently

We stand.

My mind

Reruns that fateful night

Tears running down

My cheeks.

Taking the patchwork doll

Holding it
Against my lips.

Tenderly
Kissing it goodbye

Placing the doll

On the grave.

Overwhelmed

By guilt and sadness

I bolt towards the car

Just missing

Several gravestones.

Your warning

Fell upon deaf ears

As I trip

On the uneven ground.

Stumbling back to the car

Covered in mud

No memory of falling

Or how the mud

Got into my ears

Remains a mystery.

Can imagine

The look of disgust

Upon your face

Seeing your clean interior

Covered in mud.

Think

I smiled that thought

As your eyes shoot daggers.

Sighing

Softly to myself.

Wondering

If it was too late

To go back to bed

Without set off

Any more landmines.

Or least

Minimize the damage.

Daring

A sly glance

You reward me

With your brilliant smile

Filling the car

With love.

Will

I ever be

Able to read you?

As

I shake my head

In mock despair.

Giggling

You push me

Against the door.

Wiping

Your finger

Down my muddy nose

Dabbing the tip.

Before

Withdrawing

Leaving a streak

Down the middle

Of my face.

Feeling

Like a bird

Trapped as

A cat's plaything.

Unsure

If the next swipe

Will be the last.

Never

Seen you

This playful

Scared to ask.

Could not handle

Losing you

Janice.

Like removing

A blind person's sight

Only after

Having discovered it.

"Everything is fine

Jacqui."

Attempting

To reassure me

But felt like

I was standing

In quicksand.

Sinking fast

Without hope.

Planning

My exit strategy

Should you leave me

Whatever method

It would be

Quick and painless.

"Jacqui

Stop this

I am not dying

Or planning to leave

You hear me.

"Oh Jacqui

You are my love

My inspiration

My soulmate."

Tenderly

Caressing my face

Kissing my forehead

Our tears mixing

Wanted to believe

But can not.

My hands in yours

Resting on the car console

Relaxing

Under your loving touch.

Uncertain

How to take

The next step

Wait or ask the question

What is bothering you.

Silently

I waited.

"Uhm Jacqui

Not sure

How to tell you

But we are going

To be parents.

"Am hoping
For a daughter

Who'll be named

In honour of Ellie."

Felt like someone

Had kicked

The reality out of me

Cast adrift

In Never Neverland.

Slowly

Your words cut

Through the fog.

Me

A parent

Wanted to laugh

At this absurd thought.

Except
It was true.

Saw your lips moved

Yet heard no sound

Repeatedly
Asking a question

Before I understood.

An easy question

Almost embarrassing
Simple answer

Blushing
At the thought.

Had trouble pronouncing

My "h" and "n"

When young.

Thus

Helen became Ellie.

World knew her

As Helen

To me

She is forever

Ellie.

Your laughter broke up

The emotional scar tissue

From her death

Easing the guilt

I carry.

Deft hands

Measuring out the thread

In preparation

Of mending a tear.

Skill honed
By long practice

Lovingly stitch

The ripped edges

Repairing my torn heart.

Therisa © 2008

Author's note: The fourth of four part, of a poem taken from my poetic morgue.

Patchwork Girl (January 28, 2008) Part 3 of 4

An angry feminine voice

Jars me

Back to the present.

My eyes

Bleary from crying

Realizing

It was your mom.

Hastily

Wiping my eyes dry

Turn to face her.

Knew

She was talking

But didn't understand
Her.

Slowly

Her words penetrated

My mental fog.

Judging

From her voice's pitch

She has been yelling at me

For a while.

"James Robert McLeod!"

Wincing

As I heard

My birth name.

"What the fuck

Do you think

You are doing here?"

Her angry words

Washed over me

Like fast moving

White water through rapids

Scouring my soul.

Slowly

The attack petered out

Producing an angry red mask

Upon your mom's face

Impossible to reason with.

Dimly

I heard

"Get the fucking hell

Out of my house!!!"

Coat and boots

In hand

Am left wondering

Where did I

Go wrong?

Quietly

I stepped out

As a cold December

Wind and rain

Greets me.

Shivering

Under the porch

From anger and the weather

Hoping to reach you

My love.

Defender

Of my Light

In this land of darkness.

Figures

The porch is a dead zone

Either wait and hope

You are early.

Or

Stand out
In the rain

And make the call.

Stepping out

Damn it

Wish I had brought

My umbrella.

No point

Crying over spilt milk

Rain dripping down my back

Sending icy shivers

Throughout my body

Darkening my foul mood.

Two steps away

Cell phone starts to ring.

Quick glance

Showed your number

My saviour.

In a single breathe:

"HiJanice

Imstandingoutside

Waitingforyou

Itwasadisaster."

Rich sound

Of your voice

Greets my words

Comforting me
Like a warm blanket
On a cold night.

Next breathe

I hear you say

Five more minutes

Brightening my mood.

Only

Five more minutes

Repeated over and over

To myself.

Longest five minutes
In my life

Never liked waiting

Even as a child

Pacing back and forth.

Constantly

Looking at the cell phone

Willing it

To move faster.

Remembering a line

From an old Love and Rocket's song

"And the minutes dragged..."

Forgetting the rest of the song.

So frustrated

It loops around

In my mind.

Hurry up

Janice.

Falling

Into the kid's game

Asking myself

"Is it time yet"

Driving myself batty

Stopping to look

For your approaching car.

Seriously

Thought of phoning you

When your car appeared

Two blocks away

Lifting my dark mood.

How

I wish you were

Standing beside me

Leaving this bad Karma behind

Moving forward.

Wish

I had a camera

To show you

Your Mona Lisa smile

Which you deny having

Smile of a sweet mystery.

Only if

I could give back it

To you
Janice.

Therisa © 2008

Author's note: The third of four part, of a poem taken from my poetic morgue.