Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.220.154.82

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

On this typical Sunday morning, 
alone in his room, 
he smells his favorite breakfast being prepared, 
He is almost overwhelmed by the barrage of 
fragrances wafting from two teenage daughters' rooms.

The loving tug at his heart is quickly overwhelmed by 
his constant companions--
sadness, darkness, and self-pity.
 
The sounds of morning fill the house~~
water running, 
bacon sizzling, eggs being cracked on the side of a bowl, 
bathroom squabbles, 
a TV preacher, coffee gurgling
into the pot, his wife humming "Amazing Grace." 

Once like a symphony to him, 
these sounds are now intrusions  
that create a grinding dissonance, 
an excuse to withdraw even deeper into himself.

A gentle, cool breeze touches his face, 
proof of a just-opened window. 
A soft pat on the back startles him. 

"Breakfast, Dear--all your favorites!"

"I know. Could you put me up a plate? Thanks."

"Go with us, please."

"Maybe next time," he lies.

They're gone. Now his Sunday-morning service 
begins. After a brief groping, he seizes the hidden bottle,
a substitute for the Word and faith for a 
bitter, angry man long ago plunged 
by a devastating freak accident 
into the terror of permanent darkness. 
The wall, impenetrable for family and friends, 
soon dissolves into a warm, bubbly puddle.

When the family returns, 
they will find a temporarily happy man. 
Once again
they will cry and pray in another room.

September 18, 2017, entered in Russell Sivey's In the Dark Contest

March 3, 2018, entered in Laura Loo's Free Verse on Sadness Contest

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required