death

Note: This is part two of a series. The first poem is called Your Letter--Check it out!

My Letter

I got The Letter.
The one that God should have never written.
With my name and his base address.
U.S. Army seal solemnly printed at the top of the lonely
paper.
"Ms. Amelia Sullavin," they said to me,
"We regret to inform you that on October 12th..."
The rest blurred as my eyes watered and grew frantic.
They described how it happened, some sort of bomb that
those videogames imatate to impress teen boys.
It took him from me.
The rest was just condolences and advice;
the impersonal kind that they just copy and paste
to the family who sets one less palce at the table
to the mother who won't see her baby agian
to the daughter who won't be walked down the isle
to the son who will hear one less cheer from the bleachers
to me
Brian earned a size 14 headline in the paper
another tally; set of combat boots for strangled America

The smell of medical tape
reminds me of the little girl
in the tub
with the tubes hanging off.
Was she dying then?
There was always pain,
for sure.
Did she know the day
would come
when then cruel man in the sky
would take her away from me?
And though we were born on the same day
we were really strangers
who were just always together.
She had my face and I had hers.
But I never got to know her
like I should have.
Like the back of my hand.
Because he took her away.
So I gave up on that man
the day he gave up
on me.
They all said he would save us
But he didn’t save her.
So why should I still believe
in miracles?

We slept
We woke
Lights flashing
A feeling of dread
We know
The time has come
To go
To flee
To leave this place
For the final time
You want to stay
But this is the only way
To stay safe
To stay happy
To stay alive

We run
We stop
Screams
An awful sight
We can't see
The truth
The safe place
The complexity of it all
You are almost gone
But I need you
To stay safe
To stay happy
To stay alive

We see it
We rush
Shots
A final sound
There is no we
Anymore
We're apart
For the final time
Your body is left behind
I feel the pain coming
But I ignore it
To stay safe
To stay happy
To stay alive

Keeping You

By Emma Redden
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 11

What is keeping you here?
Am I?
Is my daddy?
Do you think about
your babies
and tell yourself
‘not yet’?
You keep saying
you’re ready.
You keep saying
it’s time.
But you are holding
fast to something.
What is it?

It is the magic of
the sunrise,
or the simple fact
that your heart refuses
to stop beating?

Is it the feeling of a
two year old running
into your arms,
beautifully ignorant
to the fact you have
changed at all?

Are you scared to
see your husband
for the first time
in forty-two years?

Will he still look thirty-nine
years old?

Don’t worry.
He will still think you
are beautiful
even if you don’t
look forty anymore.

Are you scared to leave
us here alone?

Don’t be scared.
We are going to be okay.
You have left us
An immeasurable gift…
each other.

We are finally ready.
It’s taken awhile,
but the time
has come.

My English teacher's parents were killed in a car crash two school-years ago Memorial Weekend. This past Memorial Day weekend, she stood up in front of the class and told us. We all knew, of course we all knew, but she told us. My English teacher used, "murdered", not "killed". She said that she might not be able to hold it together the following week and that we might have a sub. My English teacher was usually this very light, calm person whom I admire to this day but when she was giving us a heads up, she was solemn and removed. I could almost see tears starting to form in her eyes but perhaps it was the light reflected off her glasses. She was in pain and all of us as students were noticeably uncomfortable. Was she going to start bawling? What should we do if she did? As a human being, I wanted to go hug her, comfort her, but as a student, that would have been inappropriate. As a human being, I was in pain just listening to her be in pain. It was horrible.

Death is a pause that happens when a person meets there time,
Death is a thread that someone is trying to cut,
longer the thread the longer the person lives,
Death is a game that people are playing
that takes to long to play.

Nobody understands how I feel,
they think they feel what I feel,
but what I feel is real.
What they feel is fake,
they think that they can make,
something they can take,
and make it real,
but what I feel is real.
They thought that what they took,
would be a hook,
to make me feel what isn't real,
but what I feel is real.

A victim
and a survivor.

Of what you may ask.

Of an honor killing,
a supposed murder
that kills an innocent girl,
so that makes it honorable.

But this girl had a purpose,
a reason to live
and to tell her story
to all that would witness it.

She was burned alive
by the decision of her parents,
she was saved by kind
city women.
In some places there are laws for this,
like numbers 97 and 98,
which say the murderer
goes to prison for at least six months,
usually they do not stay that long
and are considered heroes in their homes.

Time goes on and laws change,
but not 97 and 98,
they stay the same.

Though the girl has
a second chance,
she remembers her “slave” days
from her childhood.

Which no child,
male or female,
should endure.

From her beatings
she found nonviolent ways,
her peace of mind not there,
but her peace with people is all there.

Her first life
she writes down
into her book, with her
first born child in the pages.

The house of slaughter

.
Haunted, the spirits lingering in the house, like the scent of the pine trees. The foot steps of the departed meandering through the halls, tears and battle cries’ bellowed threw the long narrow halls as the blood of warriors stain the walls of a modern home. The warriors still trapped in the house of slaughter. The scent of blood thickens as people get torn apart like a cow. Being lead and being told everything would be ok.
Then, the butcher comes in as the warriors cower in the corner like little mice. Watching, waiting, waiting to be picked off, their screams of terror as they echo like a whisper in the wind. The butcher lingers around the house with her blood soaked smock watching listening waiting for the next victims to be tricked into going into the house.

All of a sudden my mom got a call and I didn’t hear anything and all I heard was my mom crying and my sister crying and I didn’t know what was going on it was so confusing. I asked my sister what is the matter and my sister couldn’t even tell me she just hugged me and said I love you and then my mom came to me and hugged me and told me something that really broke my heart to pieces and I didn’t want to believe it. My mom told me that my dad had passed away on the way to Georgia.

Going on 7 years
You are still my entire life
You are something to
Cry about
Think about
Talk about
Why You left
No surprise
For a horrible year and a half
my 9 year old self knew
We all knew
But pretended to hope
and how would that help?
When the prayers
Thoughts
surgery
Radiation
And chemo didn’t
I was only nine, my sister 7, my brother 5
But you left

There he stands,
Straight as a Statue,
In The Sands,
His eyes wildly Scream,
His lips Tightly Glued,
His Body looks week,
This is a strange man,
But Not to be Rude,
I say "i'd like to help you",

And with these words,
that strange man Burst,
Crying in The Sands Below,
Why he Grieved,
Why he Wept,
Things i did not know.

He Looks to me,
salt soaked tears,
bleeding down his cheeks,
"I didn't mean to"
"It's not my fault"
"please sir, tell me of what you speak"
Then with Just a glance at the Bloody Knife,
Now My Eyes Are The Ones Who Scream

I'm really sorry I haven't been around. I'm in a musical, and it's completely dominated my life for the past month. It's almost over now, so hopefully I'll be able to start writing again afterwards in a serious way.

_____________

They went everywhere and did everything together. A short walk around the park, a tour through the library, a game of shuffleboard on the boardwalk. Together. Always Together. And death was no exception.

i. I wonder what will happen once you're gone.
ii. The leaves fell quietly to the ground.
i. What will happen when you're gone?
ii. They floated almost as softly as snowflakes.
i. Will it be like the last time?
ii. They seemed so innocent.
i. Have I changed to encourage a different reaction this time?
ii. They understood their symbology.
i. Will that part of me die?
ii. Fall to winter.
i. How many more times will this happen?
ii. Life to death.
i. Will there be anything left when it's over?
ii. And then they began to decompose.
i. What will happen to me?
ii. Leaving nothing but dust.

“Are you sure that's your last?”

“Yuhuh, it's my last one, I promise,” he slurred.

I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, but don't forget that you're getting a ride home from Steve tonight so don't let him drink too much either. I don't want a phone call at 3 a.m. with some cop telling me that you're dead. I won't be happy.”

“Aw sweetie come on, you love you're daddy, right?”

“Course I love you but I'm not sure if I love you enough to haul my ass out of bed at three in the morning to drive down to the hospital and tell them that it is in fact you that's dead. Not like everyone in this goddamn town doesn't know you.”

“Sure, honey. Now why don't you head on home, let old dad take care of himself.”

“Old dad, last time I let you take care of yourself you came home with no eyebrows and a tattoo. No fucking way am I letting you take care of yourself. Do you know how much it costs to for fake eyebrows? A lot.”

“Come on now, it was fun!”

Gun shots ring out in a darkened, black night
Watch the life ebb from the man who suffers the bullet of this horrid, threatening plight
Watch his eyes as they change into something endless: death and demons; consumed with fright.

Hands are torn
As they scream and succumb to a poisonous; mathematic atmosphere
He says "you can save me, only you my dear, hold me tight and hold me near"
The snicker sound of the blade, oh so sheer
Was the only thing to listen to, the only thing to hear

Watch his eyes as the life ebbs away turning night into day
Watch all the problems rush in, attempt to fend off the death, get in it's way
There's no compromise with this cold and complacent creature that's only mission is to put life's final breaths at bay

Does he fill with regret as he watches the man he shot die?
Anyone does, how could you even ask why?
He wondered where this man would go, below the earth, or into the sky?

Accident

The car, was going fast,
and the driver was tired.
Too tired.
So tired he was asleep.
They were both asleep,
and neither of them knew,
What was about to happen.
The car skidded.
More like flew, across the road,
The flying piece of iron,
Hit a tree, and the tree was big,
Too big.
The sound was loud.
The crashing of metal,
The crack of wood.
Sparks were flying, the fire had started,
Sirens and flashing lights,
Swarmed onto the scene, trying.
Trying to save two loved ones,
that were about to be lost.
But it was late.
Too late.
Two people died that day.
An uncle, brother, son, and soon to be father,
A grandfather, a dad, a husband, a loved one.
Although we are still recovering,
Things are better.
We will live through

Bullets are tearing through the air
I hear your sword clanging in the distance
Defending yourself against hundreds of men
And trying not to lose your stance

There are screams carried by the wind
Yours are among them, crying out in pain
But I only hear everything faintly
Due to my state, trapped in my own brain

Slowly, I begin to break free of my trance
I realize the distant sounds have ceased
Carefully, I force myself to my knees
And crawl towards the hell that was released

The rain falls as if the heavens are crying
Everything is silent, in an unnatural way
I see you ahead and drag myself forward
Through the blood of the enemy you had to slay

Lying there, coated in your own blood,
Your eyes are staring off into space
Your sword hangs limp in your hand
A look of death lingers on your face

I pull myself close and hover over you
And as I look down into your eyes
You suddenly make a noise of agony
You look up at me, smiling despite your demise

You tell me that I have to keep on living
And give me your dreams and honor to keep
Then, still smiling, you close your eyes
And drift off into an eternal sleep

At first, my brain doesn’t register what’s happened
And then it begins to dawn on me
I raise my head to the sky, tears pooling in my eyes,
And scream out in pain and misery

This whole thing isn’t fair at all
All we had wanted was to be free
To escape that horrible place
But they refused to let us flee

You sacrificed yourself, gave your life for me
I slowly stand up, trying not to collapse in a heap
I look back at you one last time and realize:
The price of freedom is most definitely steep

How could something
That seems so...amazing
Turn into such a nightmare
the next time you blink?

Why could smoething so precious
be brought into the world
only to be given a short period of time
to live inside the womb
not to even be born,
but with just ten weeks inside the womb
not even being able to hear or see yet
your life was taken

I wish you could have stayed longer, little friend
so I could teach you as my fourth sibling
the ways of living
the rights and wrongs of living
the fun times and even those of torture
that come out of life
and then,
when you think all is lost
another little one,
comes to try to make things better.
but this time,
I'm real scared
not only for you, little child,
but for my family.
for me
for my mom
for my dad
for my two sisters
and my two-year-old little brother.
somethings just aren't meant to be endured more than once
but all I can do is pray and make sure that this child makes it safely
and that this one, is Ok.

but as the darkness washes over me
and I am surrounded by a sea of pain
I am numbed by the presence of my family
unaware of my surroundings
only sure of the reason why I cannot see
because my eyes are flooding
But I come to a point
the ten week mark, again,
to where I cannot cry any longer.

I'm still scared
for my mom is expecting another, little one
I pray to the Lord.
no matter how much doubt fills me,
no matter how much this will make me suffer
I want this one to live.

It is now past the ten week mark
And the baby
Is
Still
Living
but I still pray, that this one
Will not die,
but live

This baby, will be God's Olive branch
for the flood is over
and we should not be scared
we should come out of the ark.
where we grieve ,
and wait for the pain to stop.
the fight is over
The dove has come
with the branch
to assure us
that we will no longer be
At loss.
But with everything to gain
With God on our side.

My grandma died
the other day.
I didn't quite know
what to think
I stayed quiet as my mom
and brother cried.
I didn't shed a tear.

Only at the funeral
did I cry,
when thoughts of my own
mortality
crept into my head.
I felt selfish,
as if I thought
I deserved the life more.

And then I broke down.

A few years ago, when the hot summer heat had struck its highest, we got the call that we were all invited to go to my Aunt’s house for a barbeque and a swim. Later they said that they were going to have a bonfire and roast marshmallows. All of us were very excited to go have a nice cool dip in the pool and play Marco Polo or some sort of tag underwater. We couldn’t wait to sink our teeth into a still hot off the grill burger or hot dog. But all of that was going to change...if only we had known it earlier.
It was almost noon when we started getting ready to leave getting our pool tubes and goggles and stuff like that. My mom had made her ‘famous’ chip-dip. It has refried beans, sour cream, taco seasoning, salsa, scallions, and mexican cheese. She had also brought some chips to go with the dip. We all hopped into the car and my dad backed up the red van to the end of the driveway and stopped to look at the oncoming traffic. Nothing was coming so he pulled out and drove straight up the road until he came to a red light at the intersection. We turned to the right and we watched the other cars just sitting waiting for the red light to turn green again. It was a nice sunny day and my dad decided to put on his sunglasses that...don’t tell him this but...make him look like a dork...any way, he continued driving up the deserted street towards where there would be a stop sign to where we would turn left. Along the way, we saw the street on the right side of the road and saw my Great Grandpa about to turn the opposite direction we were heading. But it’s a good thing that he didn’t go our direction for what was about to happen next.

You’d trip,
And fall down the stairs
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d be riding your bike
You’d hit a bump
And fall forward over the handle bars
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d drop your fork underneath the table
You’d bend down to pick it up
You’d sit up and hit your head on the table
He would definitely say
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

After a while you think,
All this is,
Is common sense,
You just like to hear him say it
You would wait,
And think,
And then act stupid again
He doesn’t say a thing.

You cry yourself to sleep at night
Wishing he would,
Say it just one more time
But he can’t
And you know it.
You just don’t want to believe it.

Right about now,
He would probably say,
"Toughen' up,
Buttercup."

But tears would still
Be falling

let the sun dry up our tears
let the wind blow aways are fears
let the water wash away our Sorrows
let the earth have better Tomorrow
let go of the blame
with it you are the one who is to have shame

The Ivy Hole
Prologue

If you died in a car wreckage, I don’t think I would be sad. Well maybe for like two seconds and then I’d be like, yes!!

I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean it. I thought it was gone for good! I’m confused. I need you. You can’t just die. No I wont let you. Please. I can’t do this all on my own. If you go, I will pull the trigger. If you leave, I will jump off the stool. If you die, my blood will paint the bathroom floor. I don’t want you to leave me. What will I have left? Your memories?

I stand In the warm beach sand,
I watch the tides ebb and flow.
I see all of the people here,
Making foot prints as the go.

I see each laughing child.
I smile at each passing friend.
I see each footprint made.
And I cry when it all must end.

I wish I could go with them.
Each and every one.
But instead I get to watch each passing foot print,
Each shadow of the sun.

Pin holes in the cloth of dreams,
Diamonds on jet black silk.
To each star its own legend,
To each its own tale.

Have you ever seen the stars dance at night?
How they shift and join?
Have you seen them glitter and glow.
I have seen them make a little bear.
And the wild bobcat.

I have seen them fall from the sky
I have seen how they wish to touch the earth.

I am the Watcher,
I have seen the sun,
Rise and fall each day.
The moon surface and set.
I sit and watch

Each life flits away.
To me they are like butterflies,
Each one different and yet the same.
I watch each life flit away.

Each life has its own color,
Each life takes its own path,
And then each life is taken.
Taken away so different,
and yet so the same.