 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 22:41:10 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 27889
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Guilt and Grief
[time] => 2003-11-25 01:36:12
[hometext] => This is a series of three poems. The first is from the view of the woman in the car who killed a young girl. The second is from the view of that young girl’s mother. And the third poem is from the view of the girl who was killed.
[bodytext] => Guilt and Grief November 24, 2003 She was probably thinking of her next class, Not knowing her body would be like shattered glass, In a matter of seconds upon the street, When my car and her body collided, knocking her off her feet. Panic swept as I rushed to her side, A stranger I had injured, and could not hide. Soon people gawked as I held her head above the asphalt, Their hands clasped over their mouths in alarm, One woman on her phone, as I tapped the girls arm. Her face was ashen and her pulse a dull thud. On my knees, her hand in mine, I prayed that she would be fine. A growing whine of sirens came, followed by trained staff I was pushed to the sidewalk, away from the girl. I looked at my car, As I was told the hospital was too far. My world was dulled, slowed, and I fought for stance. I looked to the body of a girl I never knew, A girl who didn’t get a chance. As I watched a pale, scared face struggle from her car, I knew the woman was her mother... She was quietly talked to, and pushed away from the street, But her eyes kept shifting until she saw the sheet. A white cloth draped over a small lump in the road, She sank to her knees and moaned. Reaching for her daughter, her eyes filled with tears, I saw her silently crying out the years. I could not bare to look anymore, At the family I had torn. I answered all the questions, and dodged all the looks of scorn. Slowly, head down, I strolled down the walk, While behind me, they outlined her body in chalk. One last glance behind me showed me my fears. A grieving woman, looking at me, with tears. Guilt and Grief November 24, 2003 I was standing in line at a coffee shop, When my cell phone rang and startled me to hop. I dug through my purse until I found the squealing phone, And I answered, to a deadly serious tone. I was told to come quick, my daughter was hurt. Driving the short distance to the school, I pondered furiously what had happened, Not expecting to see my daughter flattened. A crowd in the road and ambulances made me choke down bile, Scared, I leapt out the car and ran what felt like a mile. Rushing men held me back, Tried to calm me before my vision went black. Was her arm broken, did she fall? Was she bleeding, or was it nothing at all? Scrambling for an answer I scanned through the group, When my eyes fell upon what I would never recoup. Alone and lying on the hard and frosted ground, Covered in a sheet my baby girl was left unsound. My vision blurred, their words slurred, And I slipped to my knees. They tried to lift me up again, But I whimpered, no, please. I cupped my face into my hands, My mind bouncing like rubber bands. I was shutting down, As my lifeless daughter had. I never knew I could ever feel this sad. It occurred to me then, that someone was to blame. Who had killed my only daughter? Who was to shame? A woman sulking near the corner, Peeking back at me. Guilt and Grief November 24, 2003 My nose was cold, my ears too. I was glad I was almost to my classroom. I watched my breath come out in fog, I heard a far off bark from a dog. My mind was lost and floating free, Until I heard a sharp scream. A dark green car yelled it’s warning, That I would never see another morning. Lying still before a car, My backpack and books spread afar. I was lulled into death by a woman who was near. She whispered a prayer, the last I would ever hear. Calling for my mother, my lips did not move. I clenched my eyes shut too tight, And never saw another sight. I often watch my mother now, Living hard and sad below. I wish that I could hug her, And tell her that I know. She paces in my bedroom, but will not touch a thing. She does not want to disturb the way, I left my room that morning. She knows I won’t come home from school, But still she watches for the bus in the afternoon. Sometimes I watch the woman, Who ended my life, and comforted me when my mother was no there. I do not blame her, no, I don’t really care. I only wish my mother knew not to blame, That the woman feels some feelings, just the same. She grieves for you, Mama. And for me and what I could have been. She’s haunted by dreams in the day, and nightmares in her sleep. She cries at night tucked in tight, For the children I could have raised. You cry at night tucked in tight, For the child you would have raised. I cry at night tucked in tight, For the help you could have raised, From each other, one another, both in pain. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 639 [topic] => 39 [informant] => Calista [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com