Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Hard times
bleed out
from beneath
my peaceful table.
Crumbs I've thrown them,
no longer enough
to keep them down.
Pulling on my legs,
like cheekbones pressing
on my knees,
old children
I banished away.

I cannot eat
with them haunting me
so near,
their faces
look like mine,
pleading, whimpering,
why did life do this to me.
I put my hands
on their headtops,
push them down,
or someone might see.

Later, alone in my sanctuary,
I weep rivers of salty fears.
Madness seems an inviting escape,
a mother,
gathering up herselves
in reunion,
fleeing to safety,
after years of becoming
a stranger
to what she needs.

writing about time
@ the same time
with u theda
singing our songs

Pulling on my legs,
like cheekbones pressing
on my knees,
old children
I banished away.

that's as good as anything I've read in a long time, hest....powerful imagery that not only causes a searing picture to linger, leaves a taste on the mind to the implication.....

the whole poem is solid.....I really like it, it speaks to the complicated morass of relationship quite well....

Saw..thank you for your words.
I quit smoking exactly 8 days ago and I am very excited about becoming a nonsmoker after all these years, however, it does bring to the fore certain issues that cigarettes really kept at bay.
I so appreciate that you appear to "see" me.
H

Read the poem over and over allowing it to sink into my mind. More depth here than first reading brings. Fine work.