Tears of the Lost

In darkness we exist yet we dance.
We pray for light showers,
But our portion is torrential rain.
Unending consternation is our pain;
We fight for our plight,
But the years seem the same.
The fire within is lit,
But the vigor of the heart wanes.
In-between torment and loving sentiments
Chronic insomniacs sleep briefly;
Even on good days eyes are still weepy.
We cry from our souls,
But there is no one to hold.
Warmth is dreamed of,
But stark reality is cold;
Even the children weep with stories untold.
Oh dear heaven, comfort them
And let their wings unfold.
White doves fly against a clear blue background
And are a signal for hope.
We have been lost, as strong tides 
Pull us further and further from the shore.
We wade in deep blue waters and dream 
Of a place where we weep no more.

Chronicles of the Anguished (No. 1)

1:17 A.M. Elmira, New York
Early winter.                                 

                                                       Rachel’s Story

It’s cold in her room. Rachel lies still under a worn comforter on a twin sized bed covered with flannel sheets. She’s tired, but can’t sleep. Lately, she’s been plagued by long bouts of insomnia. Her thoughts won’t slow down; she ruminates about the doctor’s appointment she missed the day before. It was important, and now she’ll likely have to wait another two weeks before she can be seen again. The nausea has gotten increasingly worse and she hasn’t eaten anything for the last eighteen hours. Her mother called earlier but she didn’t feel like talking to her. Since the diagnosis last year, she’s been reclusive and standoffish, even with her mother and her two siblings who she’s been close with all of her life.

She’s always been fit, but now she looks somewhat thin and malnourished. The illness has taken its toll. Her appetite is diminished and the prescribed medication aggravates her nausea, leading to vomiting. Just two years ago she was engaged to be married; he left shortly after her diagnosis. She still loves him despite of his transgressions and betrayal. She called him some time in the past three weeks but his number has been disconnected. Almost time for her to take the next scheduled dose of medicine. Only five Valiums left before the bottle is empty. It’s early winter, but temperatures have been colder than usual for this period of the season. She warms some soup on the stove. While that’s being heated, she takes a 10 mg dosage of Valium.

The soup is ready now, but she only eats two spoonfuls and three saltine crackers. She hopes the nausea will go away soon. Back in bed under the warmth of the comforter she retires; she hopes she can get at least two to three hours of sleep. 2:36 A.M.

Narrative of the Anguished

When black lace gloves are laid on finely polished wooden dressers and the long procession is over, in stillness she sits at her beauty vanity and stares into the mirror. Thoughts of sorrow and anger forcefully take over. Silent tears stream as she wipes off her makeup; clothes are taken off and left strewn on varnished wooden floors. To crawl into bed is all she can muster; he is gone now, and will never come back to her. And what of the children’s tears? She must grieve in painful secrecy for they need the strength of their mother. Fall has come, and alone in tearful anguish she awaits the bitter cold of the winter.


Of Love and of Loss

What is life that we should live it?
What is suffering that we should bear it?
The crow walks along on a long wire
And stares at me as if acknowledging my pain;
The heavens open and release a frightful,
And thunderous rain—
My god, what a glorious wonder;
On sentimental midnight talks of love
Hearts are torn asunder—
Am I not worthy?
Am I not a man who has sought peace
On mornings early?
The frightful thoughts invade and subdue—
In my hour of panic I see intimate visions of you;
You were my world and my only love—
Pure and incorruptible;
You brought from within me a lost smile,
And took away all my troubles—
The harshness of life cares not about
The matters of love and of the heart;
I am lost in desolation and utter dryness—
I am a man in need of water, whispering
Strange utterances and stumbling aimlessly 
In the wilderness.
Who will hear my cry? 
In our moments of turmoil on somber nights
My love, you would cry;
My angel, let us together release our hurt and pain.
For your hurt is my hurt, and your sorrow my sorrow.
I dreamed of you in rows of 
Lavender, fuchsia, purple, yellow and blue.
I had seen you my angel coming from the heavens 
To resurrect me from the death of melancholy,
And lonely despair;
Your gleaming white wings spread and comforted me.
In your warmth I was wrapped up—
The potency of your love healed me;
Your smile and laughter brought me back to life;
The indescribable feelings that I feel
Rise up within my spirit tonight—
If you only knew my heart still belonged to you;
If you could only see my desires deep within …
I love you;
I long for you.