Re: Someone Hears But Never Heals {1} -- Unicorn

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Date Posted: 15:16:51 07/12/02 Fri
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: webcacheM05b.cache.pol.co.uk / 195.92.194.15
Subject: Re: Someone Hears But Never Heals {1}
In reply to: Leisa*) 's message, "Someone Hears But Never Heals {1}" on 19:18:25 07/10/02 Wed

You convey all the emotion here and the reader can not help but identify with what you went through. Given the subject, I will not nit pick but I think the narrative style of the poem would lend itself well to prose. Perhaps in time something you may wish to do.

Raphaela

>Someone Hears But Never Heals
>Part One
>
>It was cold that Thanksgiving Eve,
>I was toasty warm in my small kitchen
>sipping wine,
>stirring onion and celery
> squishing stuffing,
>making pies and cheesecake.
>
>Mom sat on the kitchen chair
>not helping as much as she used to,
>given age and what not.
>
>The kids ran and played,
>settled in front of a movie
>when the phone rang.
>Laughing and singing
>a Merry HO HO HO to the caller
>my glee soon turned to sorrow.
>
>It was my Pat, my sister
>telling me of an accident.
>Through a flood of tears
>and uncertainty of his condition
>{the police wouldn't let her near
>the ambulance as they took off}
>she managed to say
>there's no way he could have survived.
>Our brother, Jimmy.
>
>Our brother, Jimmy,
>who was coming out to the country
>the next day to see our new place,
>to look for some land of his own
>to build his log cabin;
>settle his gypsy soul at last.
>
>I know inside I trembled;
>outside, I held together
>just like I did for Mom
>when Daddy died some
>thirty one years before.
>How was I to tell her?
>I don't remember.
>I think I just turned numb
>and some flight or fight
>spit out
>"There's been an accident
>and we don't know yet if he's gonna make it"
>
>She knew who.
>Mom's know these things.
>I sobered quick and asked the neighbor
>to watch the kids
>since their father wasn't home yet.
>
>I made quick calls to the west coast
>before
>Mom and I took off into the night.
>Iced over Highway 30 to Parkland.
>I would spend the night making more calls
>all over the U.S.,
>arrange flights and break the news
>to a wandering daughter's maternal grandmother.
>
>I called Judy, a co-worker/friend.
>I just needed someone
>to hear me. Someone I could
>fall apart on.
>
>It would be a long night.
>
>While the doctors performed
>miracles;
>I practised healing
>projection.
>It worked.
>He made it through the first surgery.
>I laid on a cold, cement floor
>with only a black coat for cover
>and slept erratically
>until we were moved to a Family Room,
>those rooms for terminal patients families.
>
>Grateful for the morning,
>forgetting it was Thanksgiving,
>making arrangements
>for the sisters to be picked up at DFW.
>
>I stood in icy rain to smoke,
>take in coffee
>to mask the sleep I missed
>while I waited their arrival.
>
>It would be a long winter.
>A winter that changed us all.
>
>Leisa*)
>07.09.02

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