Monday, September 15, 2014

Poem # 3

         


                                                     Your Precious life
is gone,
some
by your own
hand.

Why?
I do not understand.

I am humbled
by
my own
limitations
that
I
could not
help you want
to live.

I am defeated
by
my own
pain, &
still
I
do not accept
what you said
about me.


The journey back is always about relationships, and the conflict and disappointments inherent in a million choices along the way. Because of the way Sharon died, a drug overdose, the shame and remorse I felt were sometimes debilitating. It was never clear whether she died on purpose or not. If she did it intentionally, that was one grief; if it was an accident that meant an entirely different type of grief. Sharon had come to me a few months before and told me that she was struggling with PCP and alcohol. She and I were in counseling together at the time of her death, so perhaps that would have meant we were succeeding. The confusion made my guilt especially persistent and difficult. I felt constantly tortured that I had failed to do something to help her choose to live.

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