PenTherapy

I’m not ready to go.

I’m not ready to leave

The comfort of my home

And my family.

Will you make it without me?

You don’t want,

But I know you can.

I don’t want to either.

We knew it was inevitable that I had to go eventually.

Only time can tell what the future holds,

 But until then,

I’m not ready to go.

I’m afraid I won’t be successful,

And I know you’ll always be supportive,

But I’m still afraid of what my come

When I’m on my own.

I know I’ll have to grow up fast,

But I’m still not ready to leave

The comfort of my home

And my family.

     We decided to take a hike up the mountain. We had done it many times before. The air was humid, typical for a mid-summer’s day. I was aggravated because my nan made me wear sweatpants; I was prone to get poison ivy every time I thought about that waxy four-leafed plant.

     The mountains called to me, however, and I could complain no longer. We started up the path behind my nan’s house: I knew we were in for an adventure, even if we had to make our own. We passed headstones and plastic flowers on our way, for the graveyard was the path.

     Our hike continued in companionable silence most of the time. Eventually we reached the facing of a giant rock formation. We pulled out our rope and pretended to be rock climbers. Once on top, we rested on the edge, looking down on the world we would soon have to re-enter. The orange sun was starting to go down, so we took the fastest route down the mountain. And that was sliding down on our behinds, tons of fallen leaves to cushion.

     When we finally reached our destination, which was the faded bluish-gray house, my nan made me wash off, but she should have known sweatpants wouldn’t keep the oil from that fiendish plant off of me. The itch was nothing new to me, so I put anti-itch cream on and tried not to scratch. Of course my cousin didn’t get it. She was always the lucky one when it came to things like that.

A heartfelt game it is that we play.

The moves on the board are the same every day.

I hear the harsh words you unthinkingly said,

As I lay down and rest my weary head.

We are broken and no longer whole.

You don’t understand the happiness you stole.

Never will we have what we had before.

You have broken my wings and I can no longer soar.

These chains that bind me are strong and sound.

Break them and watch as I stand tall and unbound.

The bravado is a façade that I have to display

To keep in step with the things you continually say.

I hope and I pray that you will finally see

The oppression surrounding needs setting free.

I would give up everything if you would reach out your hand.

Together we fall and together we will stand.

There are obstacles and hardships on the paths we take,

But  it all depends on the decisions we make.

 Peace to you great bedroom

Peace to you seen and unseen

Peace to you calm and comforting

A blessing on all TVs—showing different channels

Entertaining, enlightening, entertaining people

A blessing on all closets—overflowing and cluttered

Shielding piles of clothes from the untrained eye

A blessing on all windows—masters of breeze

Letting air circulate a stuffy room

A blessing on the candle—fragrant in the air

Subtly removing the smell of dirty socks and underwear

A blessing on Wiis and Rock Band, on iHomes and iPhones,

on shorts, shirts, jeans, on books and more books, on the Beatles

On all that inhibits and displays the comfort of bedrooms

A blessing on the great bed: comfortable and big

Where it begins and where it ends

Peace be on you, great bedroom, peace of the great

bed, laying down heads and carrying them to sleep night after weary night

You think we don’t know what goes on. You think we can’t see what you’re going through. There was once a time when you tried to hide it. But now it’s blatantly obvious. You’ve attempted and failed numerous times to defeat your demons. Your addiction is strong, and your willpower is weak.

There are times when you come home in the early hours of the morning, and you sleep for days without waking up. Sometimes we wonder if one day you might not wake up at all. We pray to God for the answer, but we know you’re in his hands now. Only a thread, long bare, keeps you tied to this earth, and we don’t know if you can hold on. And it’s sad, but we don’t know if you want to.

You’ve had every chance to become yourself once more, but you must be hiding somewhere deep inside. We want you to get better, we’ve tried so hard to help, but you still don’t see how life could be without the blurry film that the drugs have put over your eyes. You are sleepwalking through this struggle that is life; wake up and see a life worth living.

You have everything to live for and so much to lose. Two beautiful angels look up to you, love you, worship the ground you walk on. We dread the day in which they will have to face the truth and see the man that their father really is.  When you’re gone, how will they remember you? Will they remember the good times and block out the bad, or will they focus on the bad and never be able to forgive.

You think we don’t know what’s going on in your head. We’ve considered all possibilities, we see what you’ve become, and we think you’re being selfish.

-Ali Neace

What do you do

when nothing goes your way

and the things you depend on go astray?

What do you do

when your life falls apart before your very eyes

and all you think of is the innevitable demise?

(Ramble on about what was and can never be again.)

What do you do

when someone you love goes away forever?

(Keep rambling.)

What do you do

when there is no peace in the quiet night

and you lay in bed

thinking of the things you could have said or done

to ease the pain?

What do you do?

Do you keep on living,

or do you give up?

Do you question “Why?”

or do you leave questions unasked?

What do you do?