Like a huge ocean wave swell The sounds rise up To a fevered pitch of pain It rains down on the small group Of lowered heads in recliner chairs Grief swells with the undulating sounds. |
| SON OF A BITCH WHORE! Says a formless bundle Drowning in a white blanket on a chair The deranged epithets Give vague meaning to the voices She hears in the caverns of her demented mind. |
| I WANT ATTENTION!. I’M IN PAIN! TAKE ME TO MY ROOM! This child woman, woman child has needs Far too long ignored She has a beautiful name And her voice drives me to my wit’s end. |
| Moans, groans, tears and even shouts I WANT ATTENTION! My own anxiety builds My insides are all twisted foam rubble Tightening and loosening I am in pain and I am not demented. |
| Their voices are lowered I retreat to my room in tears Headphones to my ears I soak in the beautiful music of a piano Pianissimo, andante, forte Where is my place in this agony? |
| Sheila W. Mooney |
| June 2009 |