No Answer

I scream and cry,
Tearing at my clothes.
I cover my face
With hands already wet.

I turn to the sky
And shout to him, accusing.
“My God, my God!
Why have you done this to me?”

There is no answer.

This is a guest post, a memory of DB. If you are in despair too then please don’t keep it within. You cannot heal alone. Talk to your family, your friends, anyone you trust. Believe me, it will get a little easier for you as the years pass.

Early In The Morning

What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And the rising sun.

Wind stirs the cherry tree
And your memories.
Do you remember
The life that you once had?

Children played on the swing
In the rising sun.
Wind stirred their golden hair,
Caressed a lost world.

What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And your memories.

For Those Five Years

A Spanish town, white, warm and blue,
A tourist street with gentle crest.
I’ll walk that street and look for them,
My pretty wife and lovely sons.
I’ll reach the top and find my world
Or maybe it will find me first.

They’ll say “Where have you been, Daddy?”
And “we’ve looked everywhere for you.”
I’ll make excuses, reassure,
With “I was in that shop” I’ll smile.
The nightmare done, I’ll go with them
And no more years in exile live.

In that same place I’ll wake at last
With all my loss and pain redeemed.
My pretty wife, my lovely sons,
The precious house my Daddy loved.
My health, my hope, my job, my world,
Returned to me as they should be.

And so I walked along that street,
The sun and shadows followed too.
Cresting the rise, she was not there
And no brave sons came seeking me.
Five years of loss and pain were real,
To turn and with the shadows take.

I lost my world that day and cried,
Only the shadows knew my pain.
I did not tell about it then,
Nor shall I speak it ever now.
The loss is mine alone to bear
For those five years and many more.

A guest post by Henry Isaacs, author of Around The Red Rock

Father

It’s colder today
The clouds have come back

I saw him last night
His hate in my dreams

Death did not release
The clutch of his fear

It’s cold in my heart
The clouds have come back

This is a guest post by a survivor