“Who Can Save Me?” – Days 208, 209, 210, 211, 212
Day 208 – “Can Be Anything”
If you can stand to stare,
Into the future
And embrace who you were
And are able to leap forward
Expanding upon truth and
The lessons of your day.
You can accomplish anything
With a little bit of faith.
No matter what you can,
Be anything.
Day 209 – “What’s Left?”
Consistent rage
Buried deep within self hatred.
As scars boil with rancid indecision
And hearts fill with remnants of
Regret seasoned with tender sorrow.
It is alright,
You are indeed not blind,
Nor are you alone.
though lost you may well be.
The road from here is long and wide,
So many paths branch off from this junction
You are not forced to live in shadow forever
Life is what you will it, child.
So take my hand and listen close,
To soft whispers on spring winds
And feel the compassionate kiss of droplets in
April showers.
The Earth is stirring young one,
So do not fret, for loss of time,
Make what’s left count.
Day 210 – Who Can Save Me? (Part 1)
“Where are you going?”
I remember as though it were yesterday
Even though time has passed unkindly.
It was in 11′, I believe, that she asked me
Those final vomits of the mouth.
It was a vivid afternoon,
Just weeks before the fall.
the sun was glimmering at 3′ o clock
And the previous evenings pissings
Had left an inch of rancid rainwater
On the decrepit pavement.
Our little hovel on the edge of town
Was in great need of repairs,
But arguments over the past few months
Had left me weary of extra labor
So I had chose to procrastinate and let the bugs
Continue their feasting upon our balcony.
Oh, but how I digress
The manner of my old home
Has no relevance in this conversation
As do I believe if you were to return there
The alliance most likely has had it requisitioned
Demolished and turned into a
Marvelous tenement building of just short of fifty eight floors
With the capacity for over a thousand familys of one mother
And three fathers and six children.
Oh, pardon my resentment of the alliance
For they only stripped me of my inheritance.
I flipped ship, the Swiss are much nicer folk,
I do daresay.
So, where was I?
Oh, indeed,
the day was marvelous and I had set off
With my pack and took a tentative step out to my patio,
Testing each board for sturdiness
Less the mites catch me unawares
And down I fall between the wood work
Of our little mix-match paradise.
Day 211 – Who Can Save Me? (Part 2)
That is when she cleared the phlegm from her throat.
“Ahem,” raspy, it sounded more like a freight train
Than a woman of only thirty-nine.
Her habit of lighting a cigarette every half hour
And every fifteen minutes during busy seasons at the salon.
“Yes, I believe it is not a crime to
Leave the home when it is as nice as it is now.”
Her sunken eyes reminded me of death,
Just as he was naught but bone,
Here body was even less.
Skin hung from hips, the smell of bourbon and ash left her breath
From where I stood twelve foot distant
It was as though I were swimming in her mouth.
Rancid it was,
So I looked her in the eye and waited for the peanut gallery
To strip me down and tell me what was what.
Day 212 – Who Can Save Me? (Part 3 – Final)
She Reached for a Marlboro, and pulled a half smoked cigarette from her blouse,
The blouse had holes in various places along its fabric,
Fallen cherries from her vice
Had left most of her clothing disgusting,
She reminded me of a carny
It was comical in a sickly sadistic way.
“You’re leaving me aren’t you son?”
Oh theres where it started,
I can see it now, here eyes tearing up,
Yellow droplets slipped from her wells,
Possibly burning her eyes as they slipped out of her system.
“After all these years you gonna leave me all alone
But why leave your poor old mother? Who will save me?”
I inched closer to her and and slipped my hands into my pack,
Clutching for a trinket she had allotted me on my birthday way back.
Pulling it from my side I held a small black mirror,
I held it out to her,
She reached for it, fingers shaking violently as she used
What little of her strength to grasp the object.
Here eyes stared into my soul,
and I knew the words that slipped through her skull.
“You ask me who will save you, look into that mirror.”
And with those words I left,
I stepped away into the September of 11′
Thirty years have passed and I settled well into Swedish lands.
The alliance took control of the U.S. in 2019,
I had gotten a letter shortly thereafter
Telling me of my mothers death,
She had hung herself because she was so ridden with grief
Over how unwise she had been,
I never intended for that ending
But I hope that she is at peace now.
But I know suicide is unforgivable
So now years gone by I find myself looking in the mirror remembering.
“Who can save me?” And I sadly know the answer.
365 Days Past July 