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With pen in hand marks on pad tears dripping
competing calliopes screeching cacophony
the sounds of Easter Sunday when you left
The smeared written words drowned in sorrow
with racket of Wurlitzer reeds in accompany
my vision of Easter Sunday when you left
Five decades mated we walked as one step by step
a symphony of music kept us in harmony
until that Easter Sunday when you left
Riding a carousel from Bedlam is insane
this turnstile life is not of my destiny
I won't cede the Easter Sunday when you left
My new life is now spent with pictures and notes
all the ups and downs of our love life's journey
beginning before Easter Sunday when you left
Our children down to their children's children
need to know their roots down through history
my duty since that Easter Sunday when you left
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem about being emotionally dependent on some you love and then how you overcome the ties of that dependency. |
Author Notes
I was drowning in turmoil, sadness and despair from the moment I recognized that blood was draining from my wife's head as I held her in my arms. That exact moment came when her eyes changed color from a beautiful multi-hued hazel to a bright blue. I had my wife's Do Not Resuscitate orders close-at-hand when the EMT asked if he could begin. I was crying so much, I couldn't respond coherently. My daughter arrived in agony, but with a much clearer head said, "Dad, No! That's what mom wants. Mom doesn't want the pain or live like a vegetable." I agreed.
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Copyright 2024.
Henry King
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Henry King
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