Edmund Siejka Poet Narrative

Sunday Morning

While everyone sleeps 
I shave quietly 
Gently tapping the razor against the sink 
Staring in the mirror 
Studying the lines 
In my face 
My mind drifts 
And I say to myself 
Life is too short. 
  
One early morning 
My sister Monica 
Called 911 
Desperate 
For help. 
  
That day I faced 
A blur of strange faces 
Different accents 
Waiting for answers 
Amid the chaos 
And neglect 
Of an indifferent hospital 
Too late 
For anyone
To stop 
The flow 
Of life 
Slipping away 
From somewhere 
Deep in her heart 
My sister died.  
  
The mirror clouds up 
And I recall 
Another memory 
Back when 
My sister and I were young 
Using the money 
Collected from a newspaper route 
I bought snacks  
That we devoured 
In her room 
Gossiped 
Listened to records 
Laughed at school 
Ignored our parents 
All the while 
Safe from the scrutiny  
Of others 
Impatient 
And quick to pass judgment. 
  
I finish shaving 
And release the water 
Watching it bubble  
Until it disappears 
With a last gurgle 
Memories travel 
A jagged journey 
Across a divide 
Of good news and bad times 
Closing my eyes 
I ask myself 
How could I have known 
That those days 
When we were young 
Would always stay with me?

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Carol Sunshine Brown June 10, 2011 at 6:33 AM Congratulations on your poetry being featured this week Edmund. It is an honor to be on the list with you this week. May you find the inspiration to keep you writing. Love, Carol

Vince Suzadail Jr. June 9, 2011 at 9:54 AM Congrats Edmund on "Sunday Morning" being featured. Vince

Dr.Ram Mehta June 7, 2011 at 8:23 AM Conbgratulations on your poem being featured this week, Edmund

Sharon Winter November 14, 2008 at 5:45 PM So very sorry for your loss. No one ever knows when their time will come or what memories will remain strong. This is a tribute, an absolutely beautiful poem to the memory of your sister. We must try to live each day as if it is the last, and hug our loved ones just a little tighter every day. Life is fleeting for all of us. You have touched me deeply with this poem. You have a wonderful writing style. Love, Shar

Carrie Richards November 14, 2008 at 12:07 PM Some things that we have experienced in our past, is etched in our minds forever. I have found that poetry reveals so much of myself that I didn't know was still there...it bubbles up and flows, and it can be so healing. I hope writing this lovely poem is healing for you too. A lot of pain, but also a lovely memory to keep in your heart about your sister. Best wishes...Carrie