Lost Lonely Girl Blues (In Memory of Sylvia Plath)

You are a lost, lonely little girl Have another dose of medicine to ease the pain Your Daddy has gone off to war; you will never again see his face Love and Acceptance - the bitter pill that you cannot swallow. Oh, how I wish I could comfort and protect you from the woman in the mirror It’s as if I made YOU up in MY head The men in white torture you with a few more volts to ease the madness Monday’s seem to drag on, but for you Monday was cut short The sun provided no rays of light, no hope for a brighter tomorrow. You are now set free from the war that rages inside of you, that has plagued your being Set free from the Holocaust which robbed you of yourself Tortured painter of words, how you festoon your words with color As dark as the words appear on the page, your words are red Daffodils sprout out of the Earth where you lay your head Tomorrows do not exist for you, nor do todays or yesterdays I hear the laughter of angels, perhaps you are there among them No more tears, no more sorrows, or pain, you are free Dancing on a cloud with God, or perhaps playing your golden harp It really does not matter because you now rest in peace - away from your troubles You shut your eyes and the world, dropped dead, but I shut mine and I see a world of possibilities. How different we are and yet so much the same You were a lost, lonely little girl who is now home with her Daddy I am a man, whose father is alive and well, and yet we seem so distant Do you see the glass over there? Is it half-full or is it half-empty? It’s no matter for you are dead and gone I am alive; I will always be alive in one way. I sing the happy gospel melody of a choir, while you sing the blues