Well, I dropped the ball yesterday and didn’t get my poem posted. So, that makes today a two-for day! I only wish it was Tuesday and not Wednesday so I would have that wonderful alliteration for today’s title.
These poems got a little dark on me, but I think this almost always tends to happen when I write. I do embrace the light in my life (abiding in Jesus is the only place to find true peace), but when I write, whatever I’m troubled about comes through. I hope if you are reading this you find them intriguing.
Day 5 (and 6).
Judge Not
The judgment finger is upon her. She turns to the wall, accepts death, weeps bitterly from the mouth that used to laugh at the prophet. “This one only ever tells me bad news. Where’s that girl who only ever tells me bad news?” Her goblet slopping fine wine down her fingers glistening with polish and jewels. “You are well, princess! You are loved! Your life will be nothing if not romance and pleasure for all your days!” She laughs, white teeth shining, smoky eyes lazily glancing over the overdressed dead under black, weighty lashes. “Where is the one who always gives bad news?” “Gone! Gone!” They bow, hoping to please. ” We beat her, excluded her, wrote nasty things on her social media. You’ll never hear her ugly, plain words again!” And she runs her weak fingers down the stucco wall against her bed, thoughts swimming and lingering with dread.
Something Hurts
Uneasy in spirit and soul. Electricity tickling the back of my neck. Part of it, a face in pain. The one I love. The look in his eyes touching somewhere I’m not conscious. The other part, the death of someone I said was nice. Who’s that? I don’t really know him. We met a couple times. He’s nice. Found dead. Took a minute because he’s always alone. Nothing unusual, even when the dogs barked a little more. He’s nice. But dead. Found naked. Alone. Dirty dishes. Dog feces. Face down. Found him there. Skin like wax. Cold. Alone. Thought I would have to explain the broken door. Apologize. Say, I’m sorry, dude, we were only worried you weren’t answering your phone. Stacks of filth. Something lingers on the back of my neck. He’s nice. He was nice. A nice guy.
Veronica McDonald 