Stephanie's Song

 

 

She slips into thought, into that secret hiding place

in the back of her mind, soaking up the morning rain

as if she were thirsting for the grief which paints her face

in shades of rose and fills her eyes with incessant pain.

 

I can see the weight of the world upon her shoulders

as it presses her down into her own private hell.

Her soul is seething; and the fire of sorrow smolders,

smothering her with a sadness that I know so well.

 

The branches of her lineage are of a felled tree.

She stands divided between the present and the past,

and elements of regret mark her anatomy

so that she appears to age unreasonably fast.

 

In my eyes, I can still see her as that little girl

with her navy and white plaid pants and her short-cropped hair

and the quick way that her temper tantrums would unfurl

as a whirlwind of rage tossing punches in the air.

 

I distill my spirit within the tip of my pen

letting my sorrow drift like fog across the pages.

She buries the rootlet of the willow deep within,

letting it fester and strangle her through the ages.

 

I slip into the silence of a broken-down dream

relinquishing the cross that I have shouldered for years

and blend into the essence of that singular stream

as clouds are canonized within the weep of her tears.

 

She cries for a mother who has tumbled into death

and for a father who never wanted nor could be.

She cries for the willow that weeps with every breath

whose branches bend beneath the weight of what you can’t see.

 

The weight of the world is like a pebble in my hands

where memories blossom into darker shades of gray,

and I toss it into the river’s watery strands

hoping it will carry all of her burdens away.

 

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[Steve]

Excellent write. Your word choices are superb.

[TL Boehm]

I have to agree with David Scott. It appears that 'your slip may be showing' in this one - my friend uses that phrase on me when I write something that reveals what is usually hidden. but to bring that kind of transparency up out of your soul and on to the paper can be cathartic. It can also be a light to others who struggle with the horror of a fractured life. When parents don't parent appropriately for whatever reason - it can shatter a soul

[David Scott]

Dearest Linda Marie,

I do not know who this person is to you, but you are a true friend to her.
I felt each stanza could stand alone in poetic potency. You wasted no space.

I will not try to analyze this poem deeply because I feel the actual facts are very private. The writing was special and philosophical empowering.

Thank you for sharing such a deeply personal poem.

[Sami Khalil]

Emotive and touching ...Hope can lift the burdens somehow...Bravo................

[Lucien Maier]

Great emotion in this one too. Well done!

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

So heartfelt...I'm not sure exactly how to feel after this one, except to say that I am sure that I "feel" completely. The last stanza was just fabulous; I could taste the texture and it truly nearly brought tears to my eyes. Bravo.

[Creepy Swine Guy]

I really like this poem (though if I were asked, I would suggest a couple of very small tweaks in word selection). You do a wonderful job of showing us this heavy, almost humid sadness. I especially liked the lines ...

She cries for the willow that weeps with every breath
whose branches bend beneath the weight of what you can’t see.

This is a very vivid image that makes the reader FEEL the heaviness of heart. My only question is this. The poem feels like the narrator can be looking at another person ... OR could be looking inward at a younger self who lingers inside. How did you intend it?

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

The poem is actually about my sister, Stephanie, and my thoughts on looking at this picture of her after our mother has passed.

[Creepy Swine Guy]

It is VERY ... well done.