Hello God, if that's really your true name.
Hear me! I have a bone to pick with you!
Where were you when I called, Oh God, your name?
Were you there beside me as said is true...

Or were you playing a stupid card game?
Where were you when the headache began that day?
Where were you when annurysm struck her brain?
When my screams bounced off the wall, what'd you say?

Still I called, but my mind was breaking down.
If you're all powerful, why? Why did she die?
Where were you when the headache brought her down?
Why did you not stop her death, or even try?

Answer me! Damn it! Can you speak at all?!!
Eyes clear... I'm talking to my bedroom wall.

Views: 102

Tags: Death, God, Grief, Poem

Comment by Cara Coleen on May 31, 2009 at 8:24pm
"Eyes clear... I'm talking to my bedroom wall."

I just got goosebumps. That last line is so simple and so profound. I don't know how close the story in your poem is to your heart, but I lately I've been really comforted by the idea that things really don't happen "for a reason". Life happens, and that's ok. None of us are victims, despite our pain. It's easier to accept loss when you know there's no one to blame.
Comment by Cara Coleen on May 31, 2009 at 8:25pm
(ha... the last three sentences of my comment sound like a poem... coincidence? lol)
Comment by Skycomet the Fallen Angel on May 31, 2009 at 10:46pm
Thank you... this poem is actually dedicated to one of my favorite teachers, Mrs. Neeman. She taught science at my middle school when I was there. And she was my biggest advocate, my charging bulldog when I got bullied mercilessly by my peers. She was more than a teacher, she was a friend. While on Spring Break vacation in April, she had an annurysm and fell into a coma. I was unaware of what had happened until the night before she died, when my sister told me. That was about 2 weeks ago, I think... I'm losing track of time... grief does wierd things to your head. Strangely, I spent 2 weeks in denial, suffering, but unaware of why I was having nightmares and upset. It all came crashing down on me last night and I felt like an idiot. I had spent two weeks refusing to cry, but when I couldn't stop it last night, I found, to my surprise, that it was theraputic. It was like I had a poison inside me I had to get out. (I wrote this poem within hours of realizing why I was in pain.).
Comment by Skycomet the Fallen Angel on February 4, 2010 at 10:52am
BTW... This is LITERALLY a sonnet... it's written in Iambic decameter [Heart-beat like rhythm with 10 syllables per line]
Comment by SteveInCO on December 9, 2012 at 1:38pm

Nitnoid, but I was taught that was called "iambic pentameter," because there are five sets of syllables, each set a dahDUM.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iambic_pentameter

Regardless of what it's called, it is part of the definition of a sonnet.

Comment by Strega on December 9, 2012 at 1:41pm

Nitnoid?  That's a great word!

Comment by Reg The Fronkey Farmer on December 9, 2012 at 8:08pm

reminds me of this old song by XTC

Comment by Unseen on December 9, 2012 at 9:24pm

How about a haiku?:

miracle maker,
magician, and cave zombie.
nine inch nails in hand.

Comment by Gallup's Mirror on December 10, 2012 at 9:40am

"In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss – of God not wanting me – of God not being God – of God not really existing […]. If there be no God, there can be no soul. If there is no soul then Jesus You also are not true." 

- Agnes Bojaxhiu (Mother Teresa), 1959

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