they picked over my things
“no please don’t do that!”
they could not hear my voice
I was behind a curtain
everything had changed
I no longer had a say
frozen was time’s clock
I watched behind a curtain
you look different
mechanical are your ways
they’ve taken away your will
A tear behind the curtain
I turn toward a new home
“sorry for your loss”
join me darling soon
there’s room beyond the curtain
*
giving freely
two pressed between other’s vice
taking greedily
Today’s prompt at Poet’s United is Compromise. Sometimes its easier to give everything up then to compromise. Other times it’s all taken (as in situations with the elderly) and again there is little compromise.
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Published by moondustwriter
Thank you for visiting Moondustwriter. One of the many exciting things I've had the honor of doing is writing with an E. African team that is developing elementary curriculum for African children. As a writer, it is a thrill to help children (on all continents) who want to learn.
I've been part of the blogging community for more than 10 years. Some old timers may remember the award winning (2011 Twitter Shorty ) blog community - One Stop Poetry. I was the co-producer of that fast growing blog community.
I am a published writer, poet, artist and photographer. I have written, as well as edited, for periodicals, radio, blogs and fellow writers.
There are many facets to this moon - thanks for stopping by.
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Your poem makes me feel sad.
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There is indeed sadness to the poem.
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Poignant. The curtain makes me think of death–which might actually be easier than when such choice happens in life. You’ve approached a topic which pains my heart. None of us can take anything with us when we leave, but here it would be nice to be surrounded by people who loved instead of coveted.
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The curtain was originally death but I realized it can be any barrier like Alzheimers. Then curtain also insulates from the true pain. Thanks Susan
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So sad, the picking over of a person’s things…..sigh………….when I was a hospice volunteer, I often thought how the person lying in that bed, with only a comb and toothbrush to call their own, had once had a home, filled with things, and full lives, now all stripped away, just a few photos on a cork board to remember a life once lived.
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Those dear folks are so often misunderstood by those closest to them.
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so heartbreaking…
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This is such a poignant, tender and beautiful poem, Leslie ❤
Lots of love,
Sanaa
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To lose control over our destiny (of which our possessions are a part maybe) is so very dehumanising..we can only watch behind the curtains in dread and fear..it also reminded me of being hospitalised – there is no defence but perhaps people have to perform mechanically otherwise they may feel – and that would imply a connection not only to ‘us’ but to humanity in general..
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So sad when you have to give everything up… and the loss is for everyone in those cases I think.
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Thought provoking poem and some interesting comments. Perhaps it is not a good idea to be defined by your possessions as you can easily and eventually will be stripped of them. We all love our own things but at some stage have to let them go. A sad reality. Good idea to nurture’ ‘la vie interieure’. Fill it with treasure, No one can take it away from you. It is with you till the end.
Enjoyed this poem.
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Agreed if we are defined by possessions then we are hurt by their loss.
It is sad that there are those who care more about things than the loved one.
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Words that beautifully capture their sorrow, Leslie.
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I too thought the curtain signified death… a deep poem..enjoyed it.
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it did then it kinda morphed (I hate finality)
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