Waste

Taking days off means I think too much. I return to reality. Here is not reality. Here the muse takes over and she speaks through me, forthright and bare, non-PC and scary.

Heather was a "sort-of" relative. But by blood, but my circumstance. She was never "right" as far as I knew. Others may have believed it, but I think they were just hoping for the best.

Take a life that’s your own
for Heather, only she knows why

I call out, but no one is listening
respectively,
so I kick over the chair.

I write a note, but it is read
mistakenly,
so you do not understand.

I grab for life to save me from falling;
decomposing,
it slips from my hand.

I wait alone for my redemption;
assuredly,
God calls my name.

[©1999]