Roseanne

I do not believe in God or the Devil.

Do not believe in Heaven nor Hell.

But at this moment I knew that the Devil had played one of his grimy games,

And took away my first best friend.

 

Grandma, this poem is for you.

It's not for me, it's not for my mother,

It's for your emerald eyes to gaze at from above the stars.

I know you're watching over me, even if I don't know for sure. I just know.

 

Rainy days remind me of you because of those days,

Those days where I would walk only a small distance on my small feet,

To see you.

The days when it rained so much, and my cousins had to bring me back home.

 

It's been almost ten years and I still think about that one movie,

Of course it was a horror movie,

Where you placed me in the kitchen, laughing, as I wasn't suposed to see the sex scene,

But you let me watch the killing and the black goo arise from the monsters' mouths.

 

How my body is still hungry for the sesame seed patties,

Or whatever sesame seed things they were.

The tenderness and the sugary syrup makes my mouth water,

We can't have our little snack time together, so maybe that's why I can't find those sesame seed patties in any store.

 

You would think that since your name has a flower in it,

That I would associate you with the burning red of a rose.

Reminding me again of the burning end of your cigarettes;

The Devil's way of inviting you to his sanctuary.

 

But it's not a rose I think of when I think of you,

But tulips.

The time we kept up with your little garden around the porch and planted flowers,

Planted so many pink, purple, every kind; tulips.

 

But I can't forget one of the things that will be forever in my heart;

You Are My Sunshine plays so often in my head,

My blood is the notes and your heartbeat is it's melody.

And even though it wasn't you who sang it to me,

 

It was my wonderful mother who did.

Craddling me to sleep, putting my heartache at rest.

It's your song to her, and her song to me,

And soon to be my song to my future daughter,

 

Roseanne.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741