This is my offering to the Poetry Thursday call for a villanelle. Being someone who, most of the time, loves to color WAY outside the box — this was an awkward, though not altogether unpleasant undertaking.
Probably prompted by the nature of Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night”, I was drawn to the dark side of my soul. I called upon the heartbreak, anger, and despair I felt when my 18-year-old son, Aaron, was tragically killed by an individual who had fallen asleep at the wheel.
Not certain this is a worthy offering, but here is “This Cannot Be”.
This Cannot Be
•
This cannot be the way his story ends?
His youth snuffed out by someone’s mindless deed,
This cannot be the horror fate intends!
If there is debt owed — please, I’ll make amends.
If life you want, mine now I do concede.
This cannot be the way his story ends?
Hell’s threshold now to where I stand, extends.
My soul ablaze, my heart begins to bleed.
This cannot be the horror fate intends!
God, oh god — your resounding name offends.
Hatred of you, now deep inside does breed.
This cannot be the way his story ends?
The blackness here within me now distends,
Upon my very essence it does feed.
This cannot be the horror fate intends!
Emptiness, bitter-cold and dark descends.
The only feeling left is cruel need.
This cannot be the way his story ends?
This cannot be the horror fate intends!
…
Rob Kistner © 2007
Rob, this is amazing. Perfectly structured and more importantly very poignant. A terrible loss.
Best Wishes,
Beaman
Thank you Beaman! Appreciated, especially from you.
The loss will always be felt deeply, but time has also brought with it sweet memories of Aaron.
–and so it goes–
…Rob
Heartfelt and vivid. It does justice for your pain, and the injustice is understood. A very lovely piece Rob.
Warmest regards,
Camille
Thank you very much Camille!
–and so it goes–
…Rob
Nice one, Rob,
you make it look very easy; I struggled with my first attempt.
Rob, your poetry is sensational, I’m glad you decided to colour between the lines this time! This was obviously a deep expression of grief and I am sorry for your loss.
I think that this form works for this poem, and the subject. The repetition is what makes us feel the depths of your sorrow and rage. ((((hugs))))
Thanks Scotty, Patti, Brian!
Formally structured poetry isn’t my “thing” but this was engaging — like a puzzle. It brought up some heavy memories for me.
As I said in my response above to Beaman, it’s been long enough now that time brings sweet memories of Aaron as well. But writing this piece really put me in a heavy emotional place. I still miss my son deeply.
My next few pieces are going to be about sunshine and blue sky. 🙂
I do write what I hope are uplifting pieces at times. If you need to be uplifted after this read, I have a lyrical short story posted here which I’m continuing to develop. It’s called “The Trail“. It’s about my favorite place in all the world to meditate. I invite you to go with me in verse — if you so choose.
–and so it goes–
…Rob
This works very well. I think a villanelle works better for sad and poignant feelings. It is a great villanelle with very sad intonations.
I can offer you prayers and hugs.
*only
As always Gautami — thank you!
–and so it goes–
…Rob
What a powerful poem…I am so sorry for your loss!
Only the good die young.
Keep save:)
Thank you Etian.
There is joyful memory of my Aaron in my heart these days, but this piece reflects quite accurately how I felt for a very long time.
Only the good die young! Yes…
–and so it goes–
…Rob
Hi Rob,
Very moving; I know it is about your son, but I also read it thinking of the parents of the VT victims. So it is an intensely personal account of grief (which is, after all, *always* personal) and yet generalizes well to a broader and more collective human emotion. Very, very well done. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Sasha!
Thank you also for the very poignant perspective of this piece as it pertains to the VT disaster. You’ve now turned it back to me to re-see it, and feel the loss of the parents and loved ones of those senselessy slain in that massacre.
May they someday find peace and forgiveness as I was blessed to have eventually done. I am tearing up here writing, understanding the horror those parents are feeling in the dark empty nights that visit them now and which seem to last forever.
Bless them!
–and so it goes–
…Rob
How beautifully you have fit such sorrow into such a regimented form.
Thank you Pauline!
My feelings of both love and loss are ever present for Aaron, so writing the emotions was easy. Fitting them to form was a bit more tricky. It was an interesting challenge.
–and so it goes–
…Rob
The villanelle suits the subject matter really well and given that you say formal poetry isn’t your thing, you’ve done a really good job!
Rob- I am so sorry about the loss of your dear, son, Aaron…
you write about your feelings so beautifully and painfully. I write a lot about my grief over my dad- it seems to help.
Thank you…
I can only echo the comments that go before mine, Rob ~ this is a beautifully crafted poem and a fitting tribute to your son and your unfathomable loss. Peace to you.
Thank you Juliet!
The “refrain/mantra” nature of the villanelle does make it a very interesting poetic vehicle for personal release: grief, anger, surprise, worship, joy, etc.
I would never have found the reason to create one it it were not for Poetry Thursday. Now I find I’m thinking of doing another reflecting joy to the point of disbelief.
–and so it goes–
…Rob
Regina / Claire –
Thank you both very much!
Bless you Regina.
Loosing loved ones is one of the most painful, but inescapable realities of life. It is the yin to the yang of the love felt when that loved one was with us.
My love for Aaron is also, and still unfathomable Claire. Time has passed since the horror of that phone call, informing me that I would never again see my sweet son. Now wonderful memories of Aaron have shone light on the darkness.
Dark and light, yin and yang — and life goes on.
Just caught my last phrase. I have a poem entitle “Life Goes On” posted on my site. It is about rebirth after death.
–and so it goes–
…Rob
Wow — that was very powerful. Actually, I’d drop the question marks — everything about this poem feels like a statement, a cry to me. No room for questions. Thank you for sharing this difficult time in your life and the complex feelings resulting from it.
a very poignant response to the prompt. my heart goes out to you.
Thank you Michelle! I’m pleased you felt the power.
Actually, the question marks are most honest — essential to the true emotions of such an awful event. When the horror of losing a son (a child) slams into your life, acute denial and intense questioning go on for quite a long time, guttural, gut-wrenching, screaming questioning — along with bargaining with god, severe anger, hatred of the people responsible, hatred of god, hopelessness, despair…
It is absolutely the only way the human psyche can even try to approach the grotesque reality. You constantly deny and question begging for someone to tell you it never really happened.
But no one ever does, and eventually you begin to sink into a black hole. No more questioning, no more bargaining, no more anger, no more hope — no nothing, except absolute emptiness.
It is the worst part of grief because you have no power whatsoever left to feel — anything. Some people never come out of the empty stage. They become totally despaired. Few ever come out completely when it is the death of a child, because that type of death goes against the natural order of things, as we perceive it.
It took an almost complete nervous breakdown, more than two years after Aaron was killed, for me to finally begin the climb back to the living. Part of me will never come back. It died with my son.
…Rob
Thank you Leonie!
…Rob
I can only secong what has been said . Well done.
second. Can’t have you googling secong….
Thank you niece of Pepek!
–and so it goes–
…Rob