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I. Fight or Flight (1/1/14)

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Poetry from 2014

 

Fight or Flight (1 January 2014)

by Elizabeth Van Cleve

 

First my brother died

Within three months

My dear mum joined him

 

I had little time

to grieve or heal

with more loss to come

 

‘Twas cold and snowing

When I came home

to that empty house

 

‘Twas even colder

that hard morning

when he said, Get out!

 

“You’re too much trouble,”

he yelled and screamed;

“Find a shelter now!”

 

Turns out, he meant it

in so few words

that he’d had enough

 

I needed more time

to talk things out

“Please stop and hear me.”

 

He couldn’t see me

He heard me not

Just repeated, “Out!”

 

I talked to someone

I spoke my pain

wishing that he cared

 

Leaving the doctor

I found voicemail

and three recent calls

 

“Return the car now!”

he threatened me,

“Or I’ll call the cops.”

 

Truly scared, I did

I drove straight home

He’d phoned them before

 

The driveway was bare

Where had he gone

with that broken car?

 

I felt so confused

asked God to help

waited for answers

 

He was paranoid.

fight was now flight

he didn’t know me

 

First my brother died

Within three months

My dear mum joined him

 

Paul didn’t want me 

in this much pain

So, he changed the locks.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My husband Paul suffering from untreated bi-polar disorder locked me out of the house, the day that I woke up crying.  I had cried over the loss of my mother, whose funeral I could not attend that week, due to the bad weather conditions, the location being such a great distance away, not having enough notice to book a flight that didn't require three stopovers (some five hours long), that would even get me there on time, the cost of flights, hotel, and rental car being too great, and my grief being much too intense to go alone on such a journey, where I wasn't sure that I was welcomed by my mother's husband.  My husband Paul either awoke in this manic state or he had never slept.  I didn't know. He didn't seem to recall ever telling me to leave.  He knew that he had locked me out of our house in anger, after seeing me drive away in the car.  He decided that I left because I couldn't take him telling me to do the dishes, while I was grieving.  I know the truth and poetry sets me free.  More poetry will follow, as the ordeal unfolds. 

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last updated 26 January 2014 - 11:51am
©1 January 2014 - 3:28pm — classicliz
2 January 2014 - 6:29pm — a.griffiths57
a.griffiths57's picture

Fight or Flight:

 

 

My goodness what an experience; you must be so grieved at the death of two close members of your own family. Also so confused and upset at your husbands bi-polar attack.  You must be emotionaly wrought but it is good to write. Whether remeniscing about departed family or about how you cope and deal with your husbands bi-polar attacks. Your poetry is great a good read and so understanding of events. Keep on writing about these events and unburden yourself.

 

 

http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57

2 January 2014 - 7:31pm — classicliz
classicliz's picture

Thanks.

Your comment means a lot!

Love, Lizzie