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
Copyright © Jesse Wood | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment