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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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
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