Echoed voices
Borne of a southern breeze
Return and linger long enough
To fill up her senses
Before drifting away
Out over the sea
To some far off
Distant shore
Where if fate would have it
They may touch again
Bringing renewed faith
In the power of this love
Breaking all barriers
Crossing oceans of time
Eternal
Spiritual
Ethereal
Divine
©2011 Jill Terry
She sat in the corner, listening to the deafening sound of silence, the room cold and dark, but for the faint amber glow of the accent lamp that illuminated the edge of her desk. She looked at the untouched plate of food and her stomach recoiled at the sight. She needed to get rid of it, the smell that she hadn’t noticed until it visually invaded her space, suddenly making her nauseous; but she was too numb to even think, much less get up and take it to the kitchen. She managed enough motion to touch the edge of the plate with her fingertip, and slowly push it away, until it tipped then disappeared over the side of the desk into the waiting wastebasket below.
She didn’t understand how she could feel so much pain, when it was emptiness that filled her now; how it could be that she found herself living for a dream that at moments such as this seemed absolutely hopeless; on her knees, futilely begging him to see, that he’s everything she ever wanted and all that she needs. Wondering if it was as easy as it seemed, for him to walk away and leave her there; lost and alone, spiraling out of control in a grief-stricken meltdown of epic proportion; her fragile strength slipping away completely when he told her, quite simply, No.
There was no stopping the flow of tears or gut-wrenching sobs, as images flashed from an internal reel, and the one she kept coming to over and over, was the sweet sadness that filled his eyes; sadness that revealed the depth of his own anguish and pain, over what had transpired and become their situation.
She saw herself reach out and gently touch his face, telling him she loved him, kissing his sweet lips, feeling for the first time that she alone, was enough; and she wished in that moment she could have left this plane of agonizing existence, wrapped in the warmth of his sheltering embrace, having closed her eyes and simply drowned in his love.
©2011 Jill Terry
Too much to stomach
Antipathy rising like bile
Laced with angst
Secreted in pain
Bitter to taste
Impossible to swallow
Choking near to death
On damage controlled I love you
The source of suffering
Seemingly never ending
While they live in harmony
Perfectly happy ever after
©2011 Jill Terry
I wanted so much to believe she as sincere, that some small shred of her former self still remained. But as I stood across from her on the other side and watched her nod to her friend just a few feet away, who on cue, inconspicuously raised her Droid and snapped several photos of the grieving daughter sprinkling dirt over her mother’s open grave, images that would later find their way onto Facebook and a plethora of other social media sites; I knew she was gone forever, that sweet little girl I once so adored and cared for, lost in a world of self-centeredness and conceit.
It wasn’t simply teenage rebellion that led her to do the things she’d done in recent months, it was pure selfishness, greed and the feeling of empowerment, when she successfully played her parents against each other and got exactly what she wanted. It was making her mother pay, for rules she believed she was too cool to follow, because she was fourteen now and knew it all.
What she didn’t realize was that her father’s attempts at proving her mother unfit and seeking full custody had nothing to do with her whatsoever. It wasn’t because after twelve years of joint custody he woke up one day and realized that he wanted to be a fulltime dad and to have her to live with him on a regular basis, it was because his business was failing and if the court ruled in his favor, not only would the monthly child support payments stop, but he would be the one receiving them; every month for the next four years. And with his live-in girlfriend, closer to his daughter’s age than his own, he wouldn’t be bothered with the trappings or responsibility of having to entertain or shuttle her wherever she needed or wanted to go; he had someone to do that for him.
What neither of them realized, was just how sick and weak the mother really was. She hid her illness as best she could, masking it as merely stress or fatigue; refusing to allow it to interfere with her life and her children’s lives; determined to be the best mom she could be, and give her kids everything that she possibly could. But the months of endless psychiatric appointments, evaluations and interviews, left her filled with fear and trepidation, at not only losing her teenage daughter, but her five year old daughter from her current marriage as well, should the strangers who were appointed by the court on behalf of her ex-husband, decided that she was, in fact, mentally unstable and unfit.
It was the day before the hearing and no matter what she did, she couldn’t calm her racing heart, couldn’t stop the worrisome thoughts from their merciless torment, even though she knew she was a good and loving mother and she believed wholeheartedly that truth would prevail.
She called her doctor in a state of panic and twenty minutes after arriving and being led to a private room, she died of cardiac arrest; on the cold steel, paper covered table, in an oversized gown with its faded green and blue flowered pattern; alone, as she worried of her children’s fate and her own.
The daughter was promptly removed from the private school she had attended since pre-K, which her mother and step-father had always paid for, because her dad couldn’t afford tuition. Her iphone was replaced with a basic flip model that did nothing but place and receive calls, and featured an automatic shut off once her monthly minutes had been reached. The live-in girlfriend moved out after three months of being a fulltime babysitter/shuttle service, which she hadn’t signed up for and had absolutely no interest in; and having been forced to begin her high school years in public school, the know-it-all teenager found herself pregnant by the end of third semester, hoping that her grandparents would take sympathy and allow her to live with them, instead of her deadbeat dad, who she not so long ago, believed was totally awesome; for giving her anything she asked for and letting her do whatever she wanted.
©2011 Jill Terry
She walked into the room
Not knowing what day it was
Every aspect of her life
Seemingly a blur
A swirling mass of chaos
Contemptuous vibes
Hanging heavy in the air
Filling her lungs with every breath
Feeling as if she were choking to death
Once again the truth was told
Falling on the same deaf ears
Twisted and thrown back
Then just simply ignored
So much easier to shift blame
Than look inside and self assess
To create a palatable excuse or reason
Finding her fetal in the dark empty hall
Feigning ignorance in empty solutions
Remaining in that safe comfortable place
Rather than attempting the slightest change
Basking selfishly in the illusion of happiness
Not really caring what’s best for her at all
©2011 Jill Terry
