Jade Posted December 23, 2003 Report Posted December 23, 2003 My aunt had lines on her faces That ran like deep valleys Gorges through which tears flowed When parts hurt that most people Aren’t even conscious of My aunt was stooped from age Time and radiation vying for her strength Like children, fighting over Who gets the larger morsel She saved nothing for herself My aunt’s hair was the color of a sunset Painted by a mis-led artist Believing a sunset should look A certain way The wig often shifted My aunt suffered Every one of her last days The pain that she felt in her body She reflected in her soul And in her love for us My aunt offered herself Her candies Her inspiration Her anger Her loss The first time I ever prayed I prayed to a god I could not know I told him that I hated my aunt And begged for Him To take her away Dear God, My aunt does not love me She made me sad I hate her I want her to die. I don’t know how long My prayer sat in Heaven Unopened and unanswered I pray that God did not know And that he refused to answer My aunt died. Concept of time so blurred It could have been days Months, years After my first prayer The Death certificate said Cause of Death: Complications of Cancer I fear now, I feared then That what the certificate Should have said If only they had known Cause of Death: My prayer.
Yuki Kokoro Posted December 26, 2003 Report Posted December 26, 2003 I'm not sure what to say. This is a very emotional and well-expressed poem. I'm not sure how serious the thoughts expressed here are, but I don't believe you are in any way responsible for the death of your aunt. However, irrational fears are often the most powerful. Once again I enjoyed your writing style, I especially liked the lines: "My aunt’s hair was the color of a sunset/ Painted by a mis-led artist/ Believing a sunset should look/ A certain way". The thought of the artists who work too hard trying to create something that looks "the way it should look" is one I can relate to.
Zen Posted December 26, 2003 Report Posted December 26, 2003 guilt can be a powerful emtion. especialy when one feels responisble for some ones death. Even if it is as remote a chance of our involment in tha tdeath. The poem seems t as if it were wrtten from the view of a little girl who is affraid what she asked for came true. kind of like in amille when the nieghbor tricks her into thnking she cuased accidents with her camera. It is a feeling that many ppl can assciate with on every level.
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