Autopsy

I don't understand
how two people who love each other
can be so cruel.
no crime has been committed.
no harm, no foul..
yet, damage has been done.

Change.
something we hear a lot of these days.
everyone is pressing for change.
but so many aren't truly ready for it.
so many will not actively seek it.
I, myself,
not above reproach.

'Nothing ever changes'
What change do you want exactly?
if you don't know
how can you expect me
to fix things?
It isn't my responsibility alone,
you see...

this thing,
this problem
is beyond
he said/she said

we've been stuck in crisis mode
with no real end in sight

hope has become
a 4-letter word
we dare not speak.

Sure, there have been improvements.
we don't have heads
shattering glass windows...

there's much less shit on the floor
to clean up..

I haven't had to run uphill
after a naked little boy
in months…

praying for my legs to move faster
(Dear God, please let me catch him)
pleading that no cars would appear.
(Dear God, please keep my baby boy safe.)



I haven't bartered with God
(or whomever isn't listening)
for months now.
truth is I'm angry..
this Welsh blood courses through
my veins..

veins which sometimes
seem to ache
pleading to bleed.

I won't let go.
Not without a fight.

But this bullshit...
these 'fights'
repeated again.
And again…

I'm tired of it.
I simply don't have the energy anymore.

You're right when you say that
nothing changes.

You say, 'Maybe I have too many people to take care of'
'too many things to take care of'

Don't you think I've felt that way??


My reply without missing a beat:
'maybe you do. Maybe you need to get rid of some of them'
(leaving the choice of which ones up to you)


The only hesitation was that noise you make
in the back of your throat..
a sarcastic gurgle escaping,
before you replied,
'maybe I should'

I'm giving you an out.

Being a good man
does not always mean
‘till death do us part’
Consider yourself free.

I won’t consider you a failure,
It will just be an affirmation
that life isn’t fair
and will never be easy.

Though,
deep down,
I know you won’t be the one to
walk away.

You’re waiting for me to open that door
Pushing me towards it
Pulling me back.

When does love alone
cease to be enough?

I wouldn’t blame you
(okay, only a little)
If you walked away..
I never expected to be
so broken.

I didn't know I was going
to fall so completely in love
with blond baby curls
rosy cheeks,
tiny fingers clasping my hand
so tightly

I didn't know he would fit so perfectly
in my arms,
that holding him
would melt every stress away

I didn’t know
that I would feel a serenity and peace
I had never experienced before,
the cord connecting us
pulsing blood
two lives as one.
no cutting can ever
destroy that bond.
it only becomes stronger
with the passage of time.

I didn't know how easily
that false sense of security
could be snatched away.

I thought losing my mother
as a little girl
was the hardest thing I would ever
have to endure.

It’s funny how life works.

Through becoming a mother myself,
I realized how much she must have
suffered.

Not just from the chemo,
the biopsies,
the tracheotomy
but from being helpless,
trapped in a body that betrayed her.

Seeing her children scared,
confused,
being unable to comfort them,
scarcely strong enough to lift her arms
off of the bed
for our bodies to fold into hers.

Her sweet honesty perfume
replaced by metallic, medicinal smells.
Still we breathed her in,
afraid we'd forget one day what she smelled like.
(we did.)

Helpless.

I understand now.
As I watch my son
scream out in pain.
phantom pain that has no name--
(some call it Autism)
no words are spoken.

Helpless.

As I desperately play
the guessing game..
Is it his tummy?
Is he hungry?
Does his throat hurt?
Is he scared?

I’m scared.

I’m scared to jump.

Equally scared that
standing still
will be certain death.

The painful truth baby,
is that I can’t be everything
you need,
but you are so wrong
in saying I don’t try.
I have never tried so hard
in my life.

In your heart
you know that isn’t true,
just more words
spoken to anger, hurt..

I don’t want to be angry anymore,
at least not with you.
‘god’
is probably better equipped
to handle it anyway.

I’m still ‘just a girl standing in front of a boy…’
But my back is breaking,
my feet are calloused
my shoulders weak.
I’m standing strong
but not resigned,
not unmovable.

Where are you?

A floor below.
Separate bed.

Hmmm...
What was that you were saying
about change?