ENTERING DEATH WITH OPEN EYES
It wasn’t like a gunslinger
striding forward, shooting, shooting
kill or be killed, eyes open,
boots on. It was nothing
like that. She needed to
drive with open eyes
her big ass Cadillac downtown
searching for bennies, blackbirds,
sparkle plenties. Eyes open
to see pills, scotch, pity.
Seeking, stumbling forward,
she entered death with open eyes.
Author’s Comment: This poem was inspired by my mother who was caught between the domestic myth of the 1950s and the cultural revolution of the 1960s. She was unable to navigate her aspirations with courage, and instead, fell into a dark hole of addiction that eventually killed her.
Wow , Good picture of the perils that are In life for us all in some ways mostly untold until damage is done.
Thanks, John, I appreciate your comments!
Well done Kelly! Love getting to read your work.
Thanks for reading my work, Cary! I appreciate it!
Hit home. All the years of trying to figure out our Mothers…..and then one day we just stop and accept them as they were, addictions and all.
You’re right, Julie! The acceptance was a long time coming….
I’m sure this one was painful for you……..but a powerful message many may be able to relate to.
Some poems are difficult to write from a personal perspective. If one person is touched, the pain is worth it.
i we always enjoy reading them. mom and dad de maegd
Thank you for reading my work! I appreciate it!
Love this poem, Kelly. You manage to smile through the pain.
Thanks, Mel! As you know, writing helps to work through things.
You know I’ve always got to look for a silver lining ……. in your own life, you’ve excelled at the things God meant for Mama’s to be … caregiver, listener, sympathizer, comforter, provider, nurturer, cheerleader, and the list goes on. Those of us who know you are better people for knowing you. And better Mama’s !
A very strong poem Kelly.
Writing … a journey to comfort & peace …. show ’em how it’s done !
I LIKE it– and all the comments read like a poem themselves.