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I'lyeza Thomas Poem
You wake up to your mother’s loving voice.
She has a gift for you that she knows you’ll love.
You close your eyes and hold out your tiny hands.
You feel something soft, but cold to the touch.
At the sight of it you let out a squeal of delight.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to your piercing alarm.
It’s your high school graduation day.
You notice your mother smiling in the doorway.
She has a gift that she knows you’ll love.
Eyes closed, you feel a familiar sensation around your wrist.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to the soft sound of weeping.
You find your mother downstairs, heartbroken.
She was clutching two things in her hands.
The first was a letter from the hospital.
You saw the other and knew it could mean death,
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to a methodical beeping.
You’re in a hospital room with your mother.
She runs a hand over your bare head.
She has a gift for you that she hopes you’ll love.
Eyesight blurred from tears, you know that feeling.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to your mother’s loving voice.
Someone’s at the door for you.
At the sight of them let out a squeal of delight.
The march has come to you!
Every person has what you love.
A pink ribbon.
Copyright © I'Lyeza Thomas | Year Posted 2018
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I'lyeza Thomas Poem
I blindly reach for words to describe
The piercing agony that lies in my heart.
The thorns of my mind bind me in place;
They tear into my flesh, reopening old wounds.
My fears torture me as I stand there paralyzed.
Hot tears fall into my open sores, burning like fire.
My nightmares crash into my shattered soul
Like waves from a sea of crimson blood.
And yet I am still searching for words.
I want you to understand my suffering.
Can you see my woes in what I write,
Or is this just another “nice” poem to you?
Copyright © I'Lyeza Thomas | Year Posted 2018
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I'lyeza Thomas Poem
I love to paint pictures with words,
But I don’t think you can see them.
I know you can picture this:
“I’m stuck in a dense forest.
Black trees surround me as I walk.
I see something huddled against one.
It almost looks exactly like me. Almost.
Her face and arms are smeared with dried blood.
She’s covered in filth, with twigs lacing her hair.
The worst thing is that she reeks of sweat.
But then I realize that she is me.
She is what I’ve become.”
But this is what I wrote:
“I’m forever stuck in my mind.
Dark memories surround me as I walk.
I see something huddled against one.
It almost looks like me. Almost.
Her face and arms are smeared with long-past heartache.
She’s covered in pain, with disappointment lacing her hair.
The worst thing is that she reeks of fear.
But then I realized that she is me.
She is what I’ve become.”
Copyright © I'Lyeza Thomas | Year Posted 2018
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