The postman doesn't call here.

The postman doesn't call here anymore
No letters received and none to send
The letterbox, once a friend with lots to say
Stands quiet and dumb, closed mouthed its become
There was a time, long ago now,
when I would catch it sticking its tongue out at me
And a letter would fall through to the floor?
Not anymore

The postman doesn't call here anymore
He just goes whistling through
He has much to do
He doesn't even pause to see
If, perchance, there's something there for me
His job is hard and his route is long
But not as long as my day's become
Not as long as my day's become
That's for sure

The postman doesn't call here.
I have a fear. I have a fear
Not of dying, but having died
And lying here for year after year after year
And no one to say 'poor Molly's past away
Because no one's noticed or bothered to see
Why there hasn't been a trace of me
They may even say 'she moved away, didn't she?'
And all the time a skeleton lies
Gazing out of empty eyes
At the flies on the ceiling.

Author's Note

I am submitting this poem because my next door neighbour was taken into care during the night because of a psychotic breakdown that she has been experiencing for a few weeks. We have tried to help but because she was having treatment and visited three times a day there was little we could do. This must be happening all over the place now because of the pandemic. We feel so guilty for not doing more. We had to listen to her crying and throwing things around. Terrible.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

What a brilliant way to signify death! The abandoned mailbox speaks volumes (however, mailboxes are empty for reasons beyond death -- internet/cellphone has hijacked communications these days!) The mailbox symbol has become quaint, making this a "retro" poem for me . . . speaking of which, I just read one by Robert Trakofler (Bad Bunny) yesterday -- his cell phone directory looks more & more empty as he gets older & his friends are dying off. Despite the historic ramifications, this is a great poem, well-crafted, & thought-provoking! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Einstein Noodle]

Psychotic breaks will happen at any time. Pandemic or not. Even family members hands are tied if the person in question is a legal adult. Usually self medicating and not taking meds as prescribed will result in these breaks. A call to her family and/or to the police to request a wellness call may help precipitate a hospitalization and getting her back on her meds. I know because a close family member has had such breaks. Without Power of Attorney or threat of personal/others harm ... nothing can be done.
Your poem :) i like the metaphor of the postman .. i take it to mean "communication" ... the contrast between the before and after is clearly given ... not sure about the "..sticking its tongue out" .. seems too "light" in relation to the somber message. Especially with your background story. V1 L7 .. I wonder why it is a "?" ... i think the reality of the scene and setting is strong ... communication breakdowns of all kinds are very human and relatable ... thank goodness for eyes that do see if someone has gone missing ... responding to that can safe a life. Strong social message ... very smooth read ... somber story telling and can be applied universally .. welcome to the Cafe' ... I am
E.

[The dark Hydra]

Oof that does sound terrible not as terrible as this poem

[Wesley Sui]

A very powerful poem indeed. I hope your neighbor is ok. A lot has happened before and during the pandemic. But thank you for sharing such a powerful poem.

[Paul Bell]

Yes I think this is happening throughout Britain.
In saying that, people have been found dead in houses years after dying.
Everyone wants their own privacy, and I suppose that's the price of privacy.

[Haley]

This is moving and tough especially when hearing about the influence behind it. For those who feel alone in a pandemic or non-pandemic times, it is hard and can lead you down a dark path

[Samuel Dickens]

These are difficult times for all of us, but much more so for some. How sad it is about your neighbor and as you say, there must be many more who're succumbing to lack of human contact. A powerful poem.