Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Wednesday’s Woe - The Phone Call...

Wednesday's Woe

The Phone Call...

You want me to call back dear friend, sister?

I cannot. Can I tell you why? I’ll try.

You haven’t lost your baby girl to death…

You haven’t lived through th’ roiling twister

That turns your life upside-down and awry,

Spoiling till it snakes ‘way your ev’ry breath,

Reaches in your chest t’ wrench your broken heart,

Wringing out its last drop of blood till drained

Of ev’ry sign o’ life, squashed, then pulled apart.

You finally pull yourself up to seek help…

Folks look away; are you disdained, bloodstained?

Folks fear the grieved who’s deigned to come unchained,

So you crawl back home to find quiet, peace,

To tend your heart, to nurse each gash and welt.

Some wounds heal but th’ heart’s pain won’t find surcease…

You go t’ bed, it’s gone—or sleep is, that is,

For the nightmares come to tamper with th’ brain.

So you drag yourself out o’ bed t’ start again.

The phone rings; there’s nothing left in life’s vein

To feign, complain, explain, so you abstain…

Poem – The Phone Call – Angie Bennett Prince – 1/6/09


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