About the Poem
Well, this one is not really about what it appears to be about. I had a close friend whose Mother was an alcoholic. And she treated him terribly. He would ask me what he should do for her, but I couldn't tell him . . . I didn't know. Then his mom ended her own life. And as I thought about it, it somehow made sense to me at the time that if I had only helped my friend get her help then she would still be alive. In retrospect I believe that I acted correctly, but I HAD to write about it and this is what came out.
Voices |
| by Wes Mitchell |
| The angel sits silent reading the writings of ancient foes Defeated All of the flood blood and agony are gone in a wave of self pity Crying her only escape voices of ones once strong dead and gone In pieces by the river of blood Flowing from the wounds in their hands and feet and sides Water is her quest water to heal water you cannot find but it is there it can only be given if only she would ask it is easily lost refused almost wanting to be in her life if only she had asked It is wonderful it will wash her wounds and make her complete happy in winter perfected in summer but love takes two the angel and it Would she have been true It would have been . . . never leave whatever it is is it it is me |
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3 Visitor Comments
NiQuil
Truly a wonderfull poem. Thank you. NiQuil
Heff
Wes this is Heather I just loved your poem so much. That was really sweet of you to write a poem about your friend. Your a great friend.
Jenn
I thought it was dramatic and yet interesting. I enjoyed reading and analyzing.
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