Brian Sambourne Poet Free verse

Sorrow's Hold

"Just block out memory," the analyst tells me.
Yet images of my friend, emaciated, persist.

His last day - I scream at the nurse,
       "More morphine! He needs more morphine!"
 Suffering that contorts his body like the peel of
       screeching tires.

"You're not family," the nurse shouts,
       "that decision isn't yours!"

My friend slips off, de-masking pain.
His lost grip on everything he once controlled.

We worked together,
       built things together.
Years melted into our bond like the unheard voices
       of beggars welded to streets.

I gave the eulogy.
Tailored dignity.
Was it enough?

Our suffering is an open jar of preserves
       - preserved when we remember loss
       - preserved because memory (ever on the prowl)
         sits on our doorstep
         to pounce every time we walk out.

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John Hamilton October 30, 2020 at 7:56 AM Soo sad Brian, if it's a true story it was described with vivid imagery, I'm sorry for your loss if this is a real event. feels like you were a true friend! Brian Sambourne October 31, 2020 at 6:43 AM Thank you John. My buddy Jim, indeed, had a painful end. His mother could not remain by his bedside. I could not let him depart alone, however. Best wishes Brian

Silent One October 25, 2020 at 5:45 AM You can't block out memories... It's never easy.. you can only try to deal with them... Brian Sambourne October 25, 2020 at 7:27 AM Very true. Memory block is near impossible for me though that's been the advice given to lessen present day suffering. Supposedly an inner attempt to block the pain memory brings is a way of dealing with loss. Best wishes Brian