Join for FREE | Take the Tour Lost Password?
[x]

deviantART

 

Chat With God - My Story by =Mistress-Phoenix:iconMistress-Phoenix:

Categories Literature > Poetry > Spiritual > Open



I didn’t think I was going to make it
To that park bench we all know about.
It was unoccupied, and it didn’t matter.
For better or worse I craved it, need it,
an injection into my eternal soul. Pinprick
and sigh everything automatically shades
A little bit brighter with swimming release
in the veins I share with blood. It’s a rush.

It’s been awhile since I’ve prayed here, I say,
Head pulled back in the sorrow I’ve felt before.
Were you aware of me back then, says he, from
Behind the back of the park bench. He sits, slow
To the picture, feeding his birds with the same
Amount of deliberateness that He always has.

No, says I, I didn’t know your name. I didn’t
know anything about you, sir, just that the world
was looking awfully dirty. A shady you just can’t wash
off. That kind of bleeding decay; no one to save it from
itself. That kind, says I. One you don’t wake up to
without wishing there was a way out in the morning.

He nods, brushing bread crumbs on the corner
Of the bench, watching with kind, tired, powerful
Dark eyes. I could fall in love with those eyes, but
I already know I already have and it’s just a matter
Of when to acknowledge this love and when to just
Let myself fester and whisper and sigh with nothing.

I was there, he says, and I know, I have always known,
It’s something we have discussed before, on this same bench,
Every day like we have before. When would it become cliché?
Would it never be? Would it become something we simple
Were? Could we simply be…instead of this existence of
Feeding birds when my heart was crushed into the side
Of my skull like a backwards abortion gone wrong?

Were you there when that chow took my face, ripped the skin
And swallowed the flesh of my cheek. He grimaces, but nods.
You should have been more careful, says he, you knew better.
So I did, even at six years old, I knew better, says I. I did it
Anyway. Would you have stopped had I said stop, says he?
I don’t know, says I. I don’t know that answer anymore, and I
Haven’t in a very long time, I murmur. Yes, says he, I know.

Were you there when daddy left, asks I? He nods, reaching a hand
Out to a pigeon on the ground. It flies, brushing feather-tips against
His dark hands, cooing softly, was it a pigeon? I didn’t know, didn’t ask.
Were you there when daddy came back, two years later, says I?
He nods, brushing the soft bird head. He wasn’t the same, says He.
No, he wasn’t, I agree.  He was never the same, says I.
Came back with his mistress in tow, A mistress I’ll never understand,
twelve years older, dark of skin to his pale, From New Jersey of all things.
And Puetro Rican, I murmur, and he laughs. What’s so wrong with that, he says?
From Jersey, I says? And he smiles, His white teeth contrasting his dark face.

He wasn’t the same, says I. No, he wasn’t, says He.
You didn’t handle it very well, he admits, And I can’t help but laugh.
Lord, you know me as I know me, and I know me, and at that age,
I wanted to burn my insides black. He nods sadly, releasing the bird.
You burned your skin with brands, anything to break you out of your
self-induced trance. Yes, says He, you wanted to die.

Don’t we all, says I?
No, says He.
No, not always.
I’m better now, says I. I’m alive. And healthy.
Have you forgiven me, says He, over what happened?
No, says I, I haven’t. You let him die. I saw him die.
He nods, eyes clearing the sidewalk. His task was done.
No, says I, no, no, no, it wasn’t. He was alive, and he
Had to be a father to his children, and to me, who didn’t
Have one. He had a job, my uncle had a job, and you
And you let him die. I saw him die. Rot in that hospital.
I saw this happen, you let it happen. And why?

Sara, says He, one day you’ll understand.
Bullshit, says I. He nods. Okay, Says He.
Are you feeling better? No, Says I. I needed
To be here today. Was thinking too much,
And needed to talk to you, even if right now,
Right at this moment, I hate you. I needed
A miracle, says I. I needed one badly, says I.

Just one for the team, Says I. Just one.
He nods, hugging me close. I’m sorry, says He.
I nod, tears brushing my cheeks on fire.
So am I, Says I.

So am I.
©2009 =Mistress-Phoenix
:iconmistress-phoenix:

Author's Comments


No critique on this one, but comments are appreciated.

..and yes, this is my story, at least glimpses.
Any questions? Ask.

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconshadyufo:
~Shadyufo May 30, 2009, 2:25:07 PM
Ouch. Painful but sweet and beautiful too. Really hits close to home. And makes me want to give you a ginormous hug because you are pretty damn awesome, woman. :)
Previous PageNext Page

Details

May 27
4.8 KB

Statistics

1
2 [who?]
35 (0 today)
0 (0 today)

Site Map

©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Services Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy