I spoke in frustration,
Squeezing, wrenching grief
Desperation and demands-
My shaking hands
Ready to shake you awake
With equal fear and violence,
So I spoke, then stilled
And yielded to the silence
Of falling memories,
Unfaded through the seasons
Before betrayal, before the treasons,
You doted on me-
A soft pillow beneath the headache-
Younger than you ever were,
Or would ever be again
and framed in kindness.
Those days drift to earth
Further forward
When I knew a call was coming
And unending trouble alongside
Trembling I whispered to you my fear,
And in great, bold strides
You shook your red cape;
The bull hissed, snorted, and veered-
I escaped.
So delicate these memories
Drifting through my day
Your brush mid-stroke,
Your melodic croon-
You learned the art of war
Too soon to stay a boy
Trading toys for the accoutrements
Of a young man marching onward
Gently these memories
Drop softly down,
Like tears on the tabletop,
Or petals to ground-
And the mightiest of all these
Is that night
He pushed his way
Into our best life
Onto my skin
Every surface broken again
Paralyzed and jagged
And you pressed until I spoke
Five vague words
Then you packed up my most valuables
Driving into the darkest night
To spare me my own.
I owe you so much-
I never whitewashed that ledger.

My grief dredges my debt,
Weighing it against your need
Everything I have left
Might help the boy trapped
Inside the hardened shell
Of the man who marched through hell,
But the tools are weapons
In his angry hands.

These petals gently fall-
I can’t rebuild the rose,
But I know Who can.
Come home again-
Though no home exists-
Come home again
Don’t resist forgiveness,
Repentance, hope,
Faith, and the greatest:
Love.

Your guitar was my central nervous system-
Strumming, strumming,
Everything I loved and hated:
Family, and home, and torture.
Who will weep for your innocence?
The tender boy with chestnut hair,
The soft soul and kind eyes-
The boy abused
Twisted, crying out in terminal distress-
How many years?
How many deaths?
And all your songs undone,
Unheard, and unsung.
My ears rang when the news called,
So many miles to stand
Alone beside your bed,
Your heart emptied
You scrutinized the space
Many miles from there.
I held your blood-drenched fingertips:
It was the closest I could get.
My ears have been ringing since.
It wasn’t even illness then-
Suicide:
The pinnacle of soulless reason-
It was supply and demand.
What words belong within this realm?
Nothing ever scrubbed those hands-
You’ve punished us for interfering
A never-ending ransom,
Meet your demands, or you’ll kill the hostage:
That floppy-haired boy
who loved us.

You’ve punished us for living,
For treating life like it was anything
We had any right to do.
And I’m not mad at you-
God as my witness
I forgive you all this and more
Only live, damn you, live!
Release your fists and allow
The mists of time, and kindness,
And even God
To finally wash them clean.

Should I endeavor such a difficult labor
As writing of my delights?
Children’s smiling, sleepy faces
Curled up in the night
As I read to them in open wonder
Hanging on every breath:
My joy beyond all bounds,
Gratitude beyond all depths
Or persevering through frustration,
Teaching through tight contention,
Until the surge of glee as
Confusion dissolves into comprehension.
Or of watching my husband,
The soul of my soul,
In the prime of his integrity,
His dignity intact, whole-
His spine reinforced
By the character of his loyalty
The measure of his sum
Equal to any royalty
And he stands in broad shoulders,
The regal strength of his arms
Cradles our wee ones
Past all their alarms.
We laugh through storms,
Elated by our company.
Our home exists in love,
Abundant joy, and harmony.

And whatever disparity
Birthed my days,
Whatever I process
In verbose waves,
None of it lives here;
I was cast away,
And now I live in a world of delights
Far removed from yesterday’s casualties.