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suicide
by Angela Thomassometimes i wonder what it is inside
of me that makes me kill myself for other
people. what is it that allows me to stand
in front of someone who yells and yells
with all of the breath in their lungs, all
of the might they can muster, spewing
violent words. and i stay silent, calm,
the ocean under a weary curse. i know
that tomorrow this will have blown over.
that, really, my mother isn't even angry
at me. she raises her voice and confronts
the cancer, god, her body, death, herself,
i don't know. and i'm still the one who listens
as patiently as possible to what she has to say. 02/10/2010 Author's Note: i wanted to share this experience with you guys, and i hope it's not offensive, especially with the poem name. please let me know if you think it should be marked explicit. gracias.
Posted on 02/11/2010
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/11/10 at 01:51 AM I'm not offended in the least, just so you know. Enthralled, perhaps. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/11/10 at 01:55 AM My wife is a recovery room nurse. Every day she has more patients and takes more abuse than she should. Working 10 hour days and needing the other hip replaced she keeps working. Her patients aren't dying as your mother is but she is and doesn't realize it. Good write lady. Keep the thoughs flowing. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 02/11/10 at 02:22 AM It is not offensive at all, Angela. It is a truth of sorts -that part of us is sacrificed, is killed, dies...in the face of the grief and rage and anger of others. It is a little death, one of many little deaths that we suffer daily -but no less painful or worth remarking upon. |
| Posted by Johnny Crimson on 02/11/10 at 04:49 PM explicit? No, no one killed themselves, just you dying inside. :) |
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