Poet # Seven

Responding to Poet Number Three

My heart stopped, weighed down with despair
As my eyes darted from him to the gun
My actions, I knew, were beyond repair
For a murderer I had become.
I hated myself for what I’d done
And, I discovered, others did too
As they cried: “You killed my son!”
What had happened to the me I knew?

 My actions more than I could bear
I decided to speak to no one
Scaring off others with a sign: “Beware”
For a murderer I had become.
Thus, my isolation was begun
Reclusion I retreated into
My psyche became slowly undone
What had happened to the me I knew?

My pain and guilt were beyond compare
So I sought help from the Holy One
But, unanswered, went my prayer
For a murderer I had become.
I didn't blame God for this abandon.
I was a filthy being, it was true
My hands stained red by the deed I’d done
What had happened to the me I knew?

I resolved, at last, to join my loved one
For a murderer I had become.
And I wondered as I wrote my adieu
What had happened to the me I knew?

The End

162 comments about this poem Feed