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Chandra Hart Poem
When will all the pain and heartache go away?
Is this something that I must struggle with every day?
I just wish that things would have been a little different,
Maybe if I would have picked up the smallest little hint.
Maybe he would still be here today,
But now, in a grave is where his lifeless body lay.
I should have made my brother tell me what me what he knew,
I know he was only seven, but what if he knew what my dad would do.
What if I could have stopped by asking just one more time,
Maybe things would have turned out just fine.
If only I would have paid more attention, or loved him more,
Maybe he wouldn’t have questioned what he was living for.
I would giving anything to see him just for one minute,
To run into his arms, to say “this is it“.
Would I have anything to say,
Or would I just turn and walk away?
A daddy is supposed to be his little girl’s hero,
Her Superman, no matter how old she may grow.
Although my dad is gone I love him with all my heart,
I have questions that will never be answered, because from this life he chose to
depart.
His problems were too big for him by himself,
I guess he had God sitting on an old dusty shelf.
I just wish he would have taken God off that shelf one last time,
Dusted Him off and said “God I need your help one more time.”
If he could hear me I would tell him my sisters and brother are growing up fast,
I wish I would have known that Christmas would be our last.
I would have hugged you just a little longer and tried to remember everything,
The smell of your cologne, your voice, but I didn’t know what that day in January
would bring.
I didn’t know that it would seem as if my world had come to an end,
At that point everything stood still, time, even the wind.
Now my Superman is gone forever,
But if he can here me, I won’t forget you or stop loving you daddy…not ever.
8/9/04
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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Chandra Hart Poem
I am thinking of putting all of my poems in a book. I have around 80-90 of them.
This is what I have come up with so far for an intro. Your comments will be
greatly appreciated. This may take two entries so be sure to check. Thank you.
My life has always been a little different. My parents divorced when I was 4 years
old so that meant every other weekend and for a month in the summer I was with
my dad, other than that I was living with my mom. The atmospheres at each
house were quite different. Now, not o say that both parents didn’t love me
because I know they did, but they were two completely different environments. My
dad liked to drink and there was usually quite a shindig at his house, my mom’s
was always a little more relaxed and “family oriented” so to speak. We went to
church with my mom every Sunday and it wasn’t always so with my dad. My dad
remarried for the first time when I was about 6 or 7. He and this woman had a
baby and shortly after divorced. After the divorce my half-sister and her mom
moved to Michigan, we didn’t get to se a lot of her and eventually my dad let her
step-dad adopt her and that changed a lot of things. My dad remarried again
when I was about 8 or 9. He and this woman, Sheila, had two children. She was
the love of his life and she is an amazing woman. My mom remarried for the first
time when I was 11. The marriage lasted for about 7 years. He was very
controlling and they divorced, it was probably the best thing for all of us. My mom
remarried again when I was 19. He is a wonderful man; I have never seen my
mom as happy as she is now. His name is Don. I now have a total of 9 siblings,
I don’t get to see all of them very often, but it’s always interesting.
When I was 15 is when my world was turned completely upside
down.
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2007
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Chandra Hart Poem
Forever I’ll remember January 19, 2001,
On the day you picked up that awful gun.
Why did you take your own life?
Was it because of your wife?
Was it because of your kids,
Or did you just not want to live?
Was there something that I could have said or done.
To keep you from pulling the trigger on that gun?
There are so many things I don’t understand,
How could you take your life into your own hands?
I have so many things I want to ask you,
but I can’t because of what you decided to do.
Whenever I think about it, it takes my breath away,
I think about you every single day.
I’m sorry for anything I ever did to make you mad,
But now I have to go the rest of my life without a dad.
You left behind 5 kids and a wife,
Simply because you wanted to take your own life.
It hurts my heart so bad,
but actually I’m still quite mad.
I really have tried to forgive you,
but it’s so hard to do.
Thanks for being my dad for 15 years,
although I wish you were still here.
Things from the past can’t be changed,
even though they cause so much pain.
I just want you to know, I miss you a lot,
suicide was something I never got.
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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Chandra Hart Poem
Sitting, wondering, thinking, imagining.
Imagining what it would be like to go back change things.
Wondering how things would have been different.
Thinking she could have done something to change the outcome.
She closes her eyes and drifts to a place where things are like they one were.
Everyone is there, the one she misses most is there.
He's waiting for her to run to him and hug him, tell him she loves him.
She sees him and wonders why he had to go.
She becomes angry and wants to turn and run immeadiately because the pain is
too real.
Instead she stands and stares.
She looks into his eyes, trying to read every emotion, trying to see what it was that
she missed so that she can catch it if that same look of pain and hoplessness
comes into the eyes of another that she loves so much.
He calls her to him, "come here baby, I'm sorry that I left, I just didn't see any
other way out."
She stands still, tears rolling down her face, she looks at him in disbelief,
wondering how the man who was her hero is the one who has caused her the
most pain.
She continues to stand there, not knowing if she wants to hug him or turn away
because he left her.
The look on his face shows more sadness than she has ever seen, she wants
to run to him and tell him not to give up, but it's too late for he is already gone.
As she starts to walk toward him, his eyes begin to light up, it's as if he realizes
she is worth living for, even if there is nothing else, his daughter loves him and
always will.
He starts to see that he made a huge mistake.
She is still walking, the path to him seems to extend forever, like she will never
reach him.
Finally she seems to be getting closer.
She reaches him, hugs h im like never before because she knows it will be the
last.
She tells him how much she loves him, how sorry she is that she didn't do better,
that she should have paid more attention to the pain he was going through.
He just hold her and lets her cry on his shoulder, brushing her hair away from
her face and wiping her tears away just as he did when she was little.
The pain comes back into his eyes for she is opening hers back to the reality that
he is gone.
As she opens her eyes she is looking in the mirror and realizes that the eyes she
saw with such pain were her own.
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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Chandra Hart Poem
God can’t fix something if we don’t give it all to Him. I won’t say that I understand
your situation because each situation is different, but I do understand what it is to
lose someone you love so dear so quickly and unexpectedly, in such a way that it
rips your heart to pieces. I have come to a place though, where I understand that
God will put your heart back together. Whatever your situation I pray that you
know there is hope and you do have a future.
Sorry this was so long. Your feed back is greatly appreciated ...
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2007
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Chandra Hart Poem
As the tears well up in her eyes she begins to choke them back,
For she doesn't know why they are building like a flood. If she doesn't hold them
back she's afraid they may not stop for they have been locked behind walls for far
too long.
Walls of pride, fear of not knowing if it's going to be okay, and knowing the tears
may be the admittance that she is too weak to handle everything that is flying at
her.
Her world is a whirlwind, maybe that's why she's always on the move, to keep up
with the things going on. If she stops it may all catch up with her.
Could she handle that? Could she handle the reality of what seems to be
spinning out of control?
Then she realizes … it is out of her control, all she can do is pray and believe that
it will all be okay. She knows that's the only thing to do.
She's handling it okay, but the weight is becoming a little overwhelming, she
wants to help, wants to fix things, but doesn't know how. If she can't fix them
she's afraid she's letting everyone down.
Why is it she feels so responsible?
Her heart feels so heavy.
Do people see that sometimes she trembles with each breath because she
doesn't know how much longer she can hold?
She's about to break under the pressure of all that is going on.
Maybe it's because she wants everyone to be okay, everyone to be happy. She
doesn't want anyone to suffer or hurt.
What can she do to fix that? Is it even possible?
Her thoughts are spinning in a million directions
She holds on to what she knows is true for that's what helps to be bring her
through things like this.
But now, all she wants to do is sleep, for when she is sleeping, her world is at
rest.and her heart is light, for in her sleep are dreams of a life where everything is
okay.
11/30/06
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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Chandra Hart Poem
stood still,” has never been more real to me than in that moment. I tried to tell
myself it wasn’t real, but those words that my mom spoke as we walked in the
house, “he’s gone,’ kept ringing through my head louder than anything. It was
silent, other than the sobs. I have never heard silence be so loud. I kept
thinking, “how can my dad be gone, this can’t be real, maybe this is a mistake,
not my daddy.”
I am writing this book because I want others to know that they aren’t
alone. I want others to know that it’s okay to have questions and that it’s okay to
feel the way you do as long as you don’t come to rest on those feelings. I was
very angry for a long, long time. I didn’t understand how a loving God would let
my dad do something like this. Now I understand, we have free will. We make
our own decisions and those decisions have consequences, and when you have
a family, and you love people and are loved by people those consequences don’t
only affect you, they affect everyone around you. In this book you will find poems
from a few months after my dad passed away until just recently and it’s been six
year. I hope this brings some comfort to you an gives you hope. It may seem like
your world is falling apart, but don’t give up. In these poems you may find that
you have the same feelings or the same questions. I can’t promise you that you’ll
find an answer, but I can promise you that even though it may not seem like it
now, that it will get easier. You will be able to begin to live your life if you choose
to. Sometimes the past will hinder us, but we have to learn to let go and let God.
I would not have made it to the point I am in my life now had I not learned to lean
on God. I tried for a long time to hide the pain, hide the feelings, and hide from
God when all along all I needed to do was run to God because He was waiting
for me, just like He’s waiting for you. I can’t sit here and say there aren’t times
when I still wonder why or what I could have done, but I do know that it has gotten
easier. There are still days where I question what I could have done and I think
about my dad everyday, but I am trying to learn more and more everyday to give
every piece of it to God.
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2007
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Chandra Hart Poem
It's said that eyes are the windows to the soul.
She covers hers with brightly colored curtains.
People look in and see happiness and sunshine.
It isn't that she isn't happy because really she is.
But as it goes on the curtains are becoming a little thicker to block out what
poeple may see if they look closer.
Why is it htat she can't make people happy?
She's trying to fix things and wonders if they are really fixable.
When the storms come she's afraid the winds may blow the curtains so people
can see.
She's afraid they'll see what she's trying to hide.
So the storms come and she turns her back hoping to block the winds,
pretending they aren't there.
Then all of a sudden she's pretended for too long and the winds are whipping all
around her, throwing her.
She pulls into her own world because there no one can see, hoping that when
she come out the wind has stopped.
When she steps out it's died down a little, enough to keep the curtains in place.
Will she ever remove the curtains so poeple don't look through tainted glass,
or will the windows to her soul always be covered by something fake?
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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Chandra Hart Poem
Things were okay, or at least I thought so. When you’re a 15-year-old girl your
world consists of boys, girls that don’t like you, conversation for hours on the
phone with your best friends about what you should wear to the upcoming dance,
etc. That was my world then, at least for a little while. That world quickly came to
a screeching halt. I was at school, doing my normal thing when I was called to
the office to check out for the day. I took my time, gathered my things and walked
to the end of the hall to find my step-dad (my mom’s second husband) standing
there waiting for me. I kept walking, but I knew something was wrong. As I
approached him he had no color to his face and he looked like he had just heard
the worst news anyone could have told him. I asked him what was wrong and he
shook his head no at me and started walking out the door. I followed. I
continued to ask him what was going on and he still wouldn’t answer me. Finally
he turned around and looked at me after we had reached the parking lot, he
said, “it’s your dad.” I didn’t really know what he was talking about, I asked him
what happened, he didn’t say a word, he simply put his fingers as though they
were a gun to his head and pulled an imaginary trigger that all of a sudden was
more real to me than I can tell you. I asked, “Daddy committed suicide?” He
nodded his head yes and told me to get in the truck. I climbed into the truck
unable to speak, unable to think. What he just told me seemed like a nightmare,
seemed impossible. We hat to go pick up my younger sister who was in sixth
grade at the time. He went in and got her and when they came back out she
asked what was wrong. I looked at my step-dad hoping with all my heart that he
would tell her because I didn’t know if I could even begin to utter the words that
seemed to make time stand still. He just stared at me, so I had to look my sister
in the eye and tel her that our daddy, our hero, our knight in shining armor was
gone. We didn’t know a lot about the situation until we got home. We walked in
and my mom told us that he was gone. I collapsed to the floor. It was as if
everything in me wasn’t enough to keep me upright. Nothing at that moment
could have given me the strength to stand. Every breath I took, every tear I cried
as I lay there on the floor seemed to echo. The saying, “time
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2007
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Chandra Hart Poem
Why is it I sit here and question what I could have done when people tell me
there is nothing. Maybe it's because there is something inside of me screaming
that I am partly to blame. I try to drown out the voice inside telling me I could have
done something but it only grows louder. I continue to try and block the
condemning screams. I try to block them out with anything, laughter, sleeping,
running until my body is weary but I constantly hear the dull roar of the accusing
voices. I was young, but not so young I shouldn't have picked up on clues. I was
old enough to pick up on clues, but not old enough to put them together. I start to
come to a place where I accept that there is nothing I could have done, the voices
start to fade. Then I begin to think about it all and the condemning voice is back
again yelling louder than ever before, but yet so silent no one can hear.
Copyright © Chandra Hart | Year Posted 2006
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