very quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
soaked with my nightmares
I am again awake
from another dark night
that began with fear
fear I might not survive
and ends in sorrow
realizing I did
I rise
make my way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed
in a heap on the floor
un-moving
save a twitch of the head
a head which now harbors demons
where nocturnal angels of sweet release
had lain down lush upon it
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver in the soured vein
this wreckage is my mother
I stop but for a glance
verifying life
then move on head down
angle to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash my face
lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely
strange eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my heart
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
grief courses through me
weighing upon my being
burning into my heart
I want to cry out
but there is no one here to hear me
no hero that can help me
driven by instinct to survive
by urgency to flee
I shudder away the paralyzing despair
in this dank food-less morning
in this ruined single room
in this coat-less chill of predawn
I gather up my books
step lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams
I duck and dodge
in and out of shadows
praying to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled bricken’d canyons
that rolls slow and lethal
gripping cold blue steel
in predatory drive-by
evil
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake
evil
which if diligence should fail
I fear will consume my soul
deliberately I continue
until at last I find my way
to the building
to the classroom
to my teacher
to my desk
to the only hope
to which I dare cling
(revision © 2019)
Wow, that’s really intense. I enjoyed it, in a dark way. Well written.
there are beautiful lines that i can relate to with this beautiful post. I love it…
JJRod’z
As a teacher, I love this. As a human, I hate this. As a writer, I am moved by this.
I so relate to a childhood like this, Rob. The miracle is how far our spirits travel from those times (thank heavens!) Powerful writing. Nice to see you posting in the pantry!
And at toads, of course. I forgot which hat i was wearing, lol.
Toadaly Sherry… 😉
wow man…the opening two stanzas set the tone and the grit well…i was heading one direction then another as it was unveiled a teacher…its a hard job. did it for a couple years…
Hi Brian — I actually envisioned this as the inner narrative of an inner-city teen, struggling against great odds, to hold on to the lifeline of education, and what, if any, hope that afforded…
The second stanza encapsulates the tragedy of the situation – the agony of balancing on a line between fear and dread. Sometimes too that one hope has to be kept secret. In this world it’s not cool to be a good student.
makes one want to gather all the little ones to give them a bit of love and care… nice insight
I hear much sorrow, but so much strength to want to change circumstances, hope is great
wow Rob– this is very powerful– I think you have a good draft here you might add more physical detail to or compress– the image of the addict/mother all crumpled up: that was my reality and I never signed up nor did any of us to have a junkie for a mom. Wow. xxxj
Sorry Jenne’ about your childhood situation with your mother, that you shared here in your comment. That unfortunate memory must remain a lingering ghost, even if grown faint over the years. I also endured the confusion/trauma caused by an unsettled mother.
I appreciate your thoughts on my piece “Hopeâ€. I’m reasonably fond of it in it’s current state, but it being only a few-day-old penned “expansion†of an older piece I wrote — I must let it mellow some before I can begin to poke at it effectively.
But please, should you wish Jenne’, feel free to expand or compress this work as you may see fit — I enjoy sharing and seeing the perspective of other writers I respect. Incidentally, I wrote the never-edited compressed “seed†version of this free verse poem 3 years ago, posted in its original form on one of my older inactive blogs — link is here.
I see from your “About†on your “La Parola Vivaceâ€, that you read and respect Maureen Doallas and Tess Kincaid, two poets/writers with whom I’ve developed an online friendship, and with whom I share a mutual enjoyment of our work. Now, by this visit you made to my blog, I can include your blog of lively words among my regular reading stops. Thank you for visiting my Image and Verse blog, and commenting.
I have often thought of how sheets absorb our energies…emotions…dreams…sweat…powerful write, Rob…
very powerful and thought provoking
Very intense, very sad.
wow..this one made me sit up and re-read……so powerful..
ugh…dark…sad…intense…close…you made me see him rob…an excellent piece and a sad truth for too many kids..
it works for a kid as well…or student…having been a teacher of inner city kids back in the day i understand it from both perspectives…
I read and tweeted this yesterday and have come back to re-read. I find this to be, ultimately, a poem of hope, because by the end, the subject has found something to hold onto, to dare to cling to. And, sometimes, daring to take the risk with that one thing can be a lifeline. The remarkable thing is being able to run the course, such as you set out in the poem, and be able able to still find reason to go on.
That is precisely the hope I was envisioning Maureen, the dangerous hope that requires courage — not the easy hope that requires no personal investment…
Brian, thanks for returning. This piece could certainly work if the subject was a teacher, but I tried to clue the reader that I was envisioning a child with the line, “…heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams…”
passionate, strong and powerful images… i do like that he/she makes it to the classroom past the graffiti and filty environment…
disturbed i am with your sad images, you ended with a positive and hopeful voice…nice one ~
powerful! I can’t add to what’s already been said above. Felt!
Very powerful piece. Strong images and some incredible lines. Thanks for the read
Rob……. completely numbing……. The pain of this young person, the agony of what he is going through….. I couldn’t even imagine that but your words came to life and took me there……. dark places……. Very well done……
Full of angst and despair…oh dear!
The picture you describe is not pretty, but instead the difficulty so many face. It isn’t the dream, so many dreamed of for this country. But who cares? Who cares anyway, when the “wall,” is such a pressing need? Be afraid, be afraid.
Yes annell, we are living in the land of sunshine and lollipops and rainbows… you can believe this if you take enough Wellbutrin and Adderall and Ambien… or whatever poison big pharma wants to push on us to conteract the depression we all suffer because we have lost our ability to care. So many suffer so much, and most people just think – so what! Instead of rallying around a real effort to straighten the mess out in this country, we wnt to spend billions on a wall. INSANITY OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE!!! INCONCEIVABLE… but it is really happening. ????
Rob, wow! The wreckage of a mother, the dismal, impoverished scene, the dangerous streets, and the determination of that child, making his way to school, the one way up and out of such desperation. This is a powerful poem, an important poem, a poem that makes a difference. Thank you so much.
You are welcome Sherry, and you left an excellent comment when you read the first version in 2011, That’s the sad thing, it never seems to change.
Oh my goodness, your poem has made me cry, Rob. Child neglect and abuse is still rife all over the world. I read horrendous stories every day in British newspapers of children’s lives ruined or cut short by adults. I want to gather them all to me and look after them but I know that it’s not possible. If I did that, I would be the one prosecuted not the perpetrators of their misery. It’s up to the people in power to use their power to provide comfort and care, and help struggling parents before things go wrong..
For the young innocent children in this world Kim, it is the luck of the draw. If a young child, unable to defend themselves, totally dependent on the love and care of an adult, or adults, the grest infant lottery desls you to cruel, miserable sons a’bitches – then poor precious baby, you are screwed – TOTALLY!! And thst is wholly unacceptsble. Only pure luck will save that child – and only a miracle will see that child grow to be a physically and mentally healthy human being. I will admit it, I HATE child abusers. People who abuse children should, in the case of the men, be hung by their balls with piano wire, and the woman who abuse, should be crotch impaled on an operating electric cattle prod. And both of these punishments should be made public. Abusers are slime sub human filth. Nothing in this world is more helpless than a pure child in the hands of a soul twisted pervert! I hate them to the marrow of their bones!! Slime…
Such a powerful narrative voice. Your description brings the squalor into full view. Well done.
Thank you Kerry. So many people, do much suffering. it breaks my heart…
Rob, your poem hit on so many truths that I had to deal, as a child growing up, in an abusive/bullied environment. Sadly, I couldn’t fully seek sanctuary, in the schoolyard, as I was often severely bullied here. In the classroom, I did get some relief, but only temporary. The only bright spot is, neither of my parents were alcoholics or drug addictions. Only leaving for university, did my abusive/bullying pattern change, in 1990.
So damned sorry you dealt with bullying. It appears you found strength to do so. Kudos to you my friend. You found the resolve and fortitude! Many don’t. And thankfully you got to university Therisa. For that poor child in my story, it will take a near miracle for him to ever get to university, or even live long enough to reach university sge. And that story I told plays out every day, day affter day, to an estimated 15,000,000 innocent children. Wanna spend some money Trump, there ya go…
And today so read in the Washington Post about child brides being forced to marry older men so the men could sneak into the US. A 13vyear old being forced to marry a 49 year old do his visa could be approved. The abuse and trafficking of children is reprehensible.
We human beings are so capable of acting like monsters. I could not imagine that happening Toni. I am not going on another tirade, but if you read my reply to Kim on this post you will see a more technicolor view of my feelings about those who abuse the innocence and trust of children…
The powers that be should be made to read this sort of message every day. That and repeat their swearing in vows each day.
..
I agree Jim, but the powers that be in our country could care less about poverty. Although they have instituted a major housing plan – privatized prisons. Rather than swearing in, we need to do a wholesale house cleaning of our senators and representatives, and then make EVERY elected position in this country limited to 2-terms. And every appointed position, such as Supreme Court, needs to be an equal number of Repugnantans and Demobrats – and the essential third party when it is established. With that last statement said, we desparately need a third party in our country, with all the benefits granted to it that are granted to the Repugnantans and the Demobrats And everyone voting for state and federal positions gets to vote for two different candidates, their first and second choice. If their first choice doesn’t amass a majority vote, then their second vote is the one counted. Then eliminate the electiral college and make it a true one citizen / one vote system so we could have the true proples choice in our elected offices. Unfortunately, this country IS DEFINITELY going to collapse before we institute these common sense ideas.