Shunning The Season

Wednesday's child is full of woe ...

As far back as I can remember,

although I never really knew why,

I hated the month of December,

soaking up rain in back of my eye.

Dark strands of sorrow surrounded me,

plumped high on pillows of feathered down,

while the phantoms of fear consumed me

as bright lights and tinsel dressed the town.

Something had dimmed the lights in my heart,

and Christmas always seemed twice as sad.

I longed for something now gone, yet, a part,

something I wanted but never had.

A cloudburst blossomed within the rose,

the moon half empty upon her stem;

and I am the child that no one knows

born of the night between her and him.

She gathered her wrath around my wrist,

pushing her shadow into my veins,

unsheathed her hatred; and with a twist,

slit open my soul to flood the plains.

He took her secrets into the grave

and buried them deep among the dead

until time unfolded like a wave

and ashes of old raised up their head.

I live in spite of an ache so deep

whose threads are the fabric of my own,

a child of sorrow with none to keep

uncrowned in the dust, unclaimed, alone.

No mother, no father, mercy done.

I wave my banner in quick retreat.

The battle is over; death has won.

Acceptance lingers on my lips, sweet.

Author's Note

Reviews

[A hare off]

To experience a broken heart is one thing, to see a child's heart broken is devastating. This poem reaches deep inside the reader and pulls at every emotional string we may have. It is beautiful and mesmerizing but so completely filled with sorrow that it has my heart aching as I type this thinking about it. You have a way of touching us with your poetry.

[Dalton]

The degree of apathy, morose, rancour, deep pain, and anguish in this poem is incalculable. The magnitude of the events surrounding this piece require little metaphor or complexity in description. The relatively straightforward delivery is perfectly fitting, though the writer's astuteness is neatly woven in.
The fifth stanza actually gave me chills.
The final stanza delivers a heavy blow to this reader's heart.


This piece is brilliant.

Salute,
Dalton

[TL Boehm]

an aching poem. Palpable and wrenching but with such lush words and images. it is sadly beautiful in its own way.

[emmajoy]

Such a desperate sadness, such a deeply-rooted feeling lingering until explained. How you've lived, how you live, is much to be admired.. because, dear friend, you have. You have lived and somehow, in spite of everything your words make magic and beauty. 'To paint a masterpiece you need to have suffered', so sayeth someone... and you, dear Linda, have painted so many such pieces. (YOU)

That graphic is heartbreakingly appropriate.. sighh..

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I fold my heart into the wings of your words and whisper, "Thank you."

[David Scott]

You haven't heartfelt sympathy and comforting wishes. We never really know the true "why" of things. We are left trying to fill in the blanks of a puzzle with too few clues. Ultimately, we get to choose why we think things are the way they are. Choose a meaning where your life is empowered rather than diminished. I know this is hard to do. I struggle with this concept myself daily.
Still, Christmas is about making whole the broken and sending hope to the hopeless. You are more a part of why we have Christmas than you realize.
The poetry is a true lament and I felt the horror still vivid with the longing sorrow.
There are "tidings of great joy" however... All is not as lost as it once might have seemed.
Thank you for sharing such a personal and transparent pain. The honesty here is a brave step toward healing.

[alifeacoustic]

Such sorrowful words, beautifully captured, despite the pain of going through this. I think the line...soaking up rain in the back of my eye is the most wonderful and descriptive line I've ever heard. I'm jealous I never came up with it.
I think you hit the nail on the head when you say you didnt consciously know why a young mind associates that time with sadness. They just know. When I was eight, I had a life threatening accident on xmas eve when I ran through a plate glass door and turned myself into a human kebab. Xmas time to me ever since has had an unspoken, yet felt sense of being very ominous. That young child you speak of now knows how she feels that way, but its of little help within the bigger picture of her life.
Thank yiu for sharing such a personal write. We all need reminding sometimes that xmas can be a reminder of painful times for some.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is such a tragic happening, and to have to live with its memory, no wonder christmas is such a sad time...interesting that before you even knew the story, you sensed something.

this poem is so moving.

j.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Jacob. I really wish that parents would realize the life-long impact that their actions can have on their children. Perhaps, if they did, these sorts of things wouldn't happen. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.