Dear Reflection

I know my world was lit by a technicolor moon
that labored in the silence,
poured through the grate of my window
and geminated into the haphazard designs
that lit your face in chicken-wire lines.

Creative Commons: Helga Weber
Creative Commons: Helga Weber

I know that your body was split by torsion,
spread across the bed –
puppet legs cut from the strings and twisted
so that they must be broken
or you are.

I know it is a rare moment for compassion
to slink its way into my heart,
for the razorwine to dull my sense enough
that even I, an inept caregiver,
can ignore your noxious, sour breath,

can find my arms wrapping around you,
tucking your pieces back in,
pulling you together into something almost me,
and wiping away the leftover bits that tell you
this world is not for living in.

I was so behind on my challenges, and more on why this week, hopefully, but in the meantime. . .This was written with words from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and Three Word Wednesday. The theme was brought to me by Memee’s Poetry Party and National Suicide Prevention Month. Please check out my book Rumble Strip which deals further with one girl’s struggle with suicide and depression. Thank you.

11 responses to “Dear Reflection”

  1. Very good to see you hear and a powerful poem – the contrast in imagery reflects the conflict between these two people – one wishing for hope and repair..the other perhaps the opposite..a very relatable and resonant piece

    Liked by 2 people

  2. It is hard to deal with these things. Whether we ourself or those around us have. The sense of hopelessness, uselessness and powerless moments.

    Stretching the hands
    to feel your cold skin
    I freeze in position
    vocal cords cut
    from shock
    a heart ripped
    from crushing rips
    I waver
    beside abyss
    shadows beside you
    in a depth
    I can only reach
    if I follow
    warm are the tears
    in white knuckled fist
    leftover pills
    I …
    break down
    weight collapse
    my body
    trembling baby
    on floor
    left behind
    in the darkness
    with a bottle
    for every day
    wandering why
    shouldn’t I?

    Liked by 2 people

  3. “tucking pieces back in” what a powerful image. One that takes my breath away when I read it. For when we are broken and shattered do we not want someone to help us accumulate the pieces and try to puzzle them back together?

    Oh such beautiful ache in your poems.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Laura, thank you for sharing your beautifully sad poem to the poem challenge. It is definately something difficult to write about. I am interested in reading your book at some point, so I will follow for now (I am in the midst of moving while in college and mourning… ) at least it’s all keeping my mind occupied!

    Liked by 1 person

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