PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I once saw a woman with railroad tracks that ballroom-danced across the inside of her arm
She had sand-paper hands, salt-and-pepper hair, and a voice that sounded like barbed wire
She lived somewhere in between white powder sniffed and syringes in her veins that still dripped fragments of her DNA, of who she used to be
I saw her
She was injecting unfulfilled potential into veins that stuck out so far it looked like they were sprinting full speed toward the gates of hell
I saw her
Suspended in the atmosphere with dilated pupils and glazed eyes
Hanging on to pieces of a woman that no longer looks back at her in the mirror
She doesn’t even realize that she’s become her own ghost
A specter
A phantom
Haunting the woman that she would be if she could just shake the cold grip of the chemicals that have transposed their hands around her neck
She’s become a woman with no shadow, no reflection, just a leaf in the wind, whispering her untold story to the breeze because God is the only one listening
And I watch her from a distance
I watch as her pillow files a restraining order against her dreams
She’s’ like a walking motion picture
Like a Technicolor metaphor
Like a free clinic with aborted dreams
I saw her slowly wilting right before my eyes like a raisin in the sun
Like a dream postponed
And I wondered if there would be anything left of her in the morning when God pulls the sun across the sky
I wondered if the blueprint to this woman’s life is sitting somewhere on the creator’s desk
And if so exactly how does this part of the story fit into the grand scheme of things
I believe all things happen for a reason
And usually I’m not one to question what’s been written by divine hands
But I’ve got a pair of eyes plagued with curiosity and a mouth overflowing with questions
So this morning I looked for a piece of paper
I wrote “Why her? “She’s my mom”
Folded it in half
I walked through my front door, threw the note in the air and watched the sky swallow it whole
And now
I guess I’m just waiting on God to write back