Poetic Justice

That title means nothing, by the way. And I have so much more to say, but I am exhausted and heartbroken and drained beyond belief. And I had no idea when I agreed to babysit tomorrow night that it was going to be a NINE HOUR AFFAIR. So much for a day off.

This is the poem that I mentioned in my very first blog post. Not Dickinson, but not terrible. But then again...I'm biased.

Good night, my loves.

------

where are you?
i reach out to you in the darkness
and the emptiness envelops my arm
swallows it into the void

unsatisfied, the void reaches out to me
the arm that was once mine
(but which now belongs to the void)
touches me tentatively
and lays its fingers to rest on my chest

worn fingers stroke my heart
interrupting its lub-dub of life
and creating a pattern too familiar to me
(lub-lub-lub-dub---lub-lub-dub)
of fear and death

once mine, the hand under the
power of darkness
grips my heart
and wrenches it from my chest

i open my mouth to scream
--nothing
the vocalization of my fear
silenced before it could begin
you do not hear my cries

but you know how i wish
to cry out
for i see you there
in the corner just beyond my grasp

your eyes, with their eerie,
otherworldly quality
reflect the fear and pain in my own
you see my pain
and yet you do not help

you expect me to come to you
i, who am in the control of
powers darker than you are light,
am supposed to come to you.

i reach once more with the hand
still in my control
spidery fingers reaching out desperately
for contact and assurance.

as a child, i was taught
that You are a constant--
unchanging
unmoving

but there, in the darkness,
in the grips of something i neither
know nor comprehend,
i am positive

i see You take a step back.