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Why

by Mark Maxey


Why?

Bumping and moving along an imaginary freeway
Platelets pulsating pounding psychotically pondering panacea
All the while I sit and watch you weep
Crying out for comfort… healing…asking for a rhyme or reason
But the muse only taunts us and I feel empty

Why?

Saintly standing in a statuesque silhouette somber pose
Your inner beauty shines like a radiating sun
Inwardly I see on the screen the rampant misuse of function
Secretly I pray and ask for me to take on your malady
In a dream I sneak in and exchange my blood for yours
But in reality I feel your hurt just a few feet away from your sobbing
I squint my eyes and maybe that will help the dream come true
But I awake to your pain, discomfort, your sadness

Brothers and sisters are bonded by birth
But this medical transition has cemented that bond
I offer my hand, my heart, my soul my absolute being
Hoping that in that you find your solace

Why

Why

Where are the answers?

At times I feel empty as if nothing I offer can help
I cry too…but alone when no one is watching…no one to see my weakness
Troubling thoughts linger for hours…days…weeks….months….

Why?

I reach out…in love…the only thing I can offer from my soul….to yours….to mend….heal….

Where are the days of our youth when we would run the fields
play with our dogs and run bases with imaginary players since we only had three on our team
the days of dressing up in costumes and making fun in the hot august afternoons
while we visited with our grandparents
or laughed with joy as we made popcorn balls with Mamma for Halloween
or painted watercolor images that only she could find the beauty
Why?

Has those days of laughter…innocence passed away along with our declining health?

I still feel we can regain that youth in our dreams…rewire our brains to yesteryear
when all was well…you smiled…you laughed…you were by best friend
quick get under the sink, close the closet door and let us go back to Neverland
where there was no sickness…no pain…no discomfort….
The joy we found in youth that lay under the cerebellum
is just a dream away…to whisk us to that space of reality/non-reality

Why?

09/14/2009

Posted on 09/15/2009
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 09/15/09 at 05:03 AM

Mark, I find this tender and beautiful, even in its desire to know all the whys. We won't know them, but we can know compassion and desire for better, pervious, other times. Your passion goes beyond the whys into comforting. It is what we are left with to do. We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is visible at a glance. We err because we seek what is more comfortable, which is usually tossing the truth. But, you poem is fill with as many truths as wonderings why. Seek their peace. Delighted. Thanks.

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