Thursday, August 27, 2009

Conflicted




'Glaring empty', by Lisa Mabey








I sit on the edge of your bed
and watch you leak
small drops
of life.

I anticipated doing things for you,
rather than this --
this waiting, hovering,
trying to interpret
what your heart mumbles
between slurred words.

Like a beachcomber, I search
for tiny wave tossed treasures,
then leave for home - empty handed -
and pray for the tide to turn.

Lesley-Anne Evans
03/02/09

2 comments:

  1. I know there's a story behind this poem...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Indeed there is one… if you visit Sometimes Suicidal Mama - link is posted here - and read about my friend Art Suke, you will understand more about what inspired this poem.

    Thanks for reading my blog!

    Lesley-Anne

    ReplyDelete

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