And Then The Howling Stopped

And Then The Howling Stopped

We saw it coming, but it never happens to us,

so we didn’t listen.

It never happens to us.

Until it did.

We thought we’ve seen suffering, we thought we knew disaster.

And then this came.

It came and we listened.

We stayed inside and cried,

Laughed.

We watched crazy rednecks streaming

and put teddy bears in windows and discovered technology we thought we already knew.

We came together when we fell apart.

We came together and we howled; a pack separated.

We howled for the pain, the suffering, the missed parties, graduations, weddings . . .

The doctors and nurses and grocery store employees . . .

We howled for those without homes and those stuck in bad homes . . .

We howled for those who lost their jobs, their houses,

Their Lives.

We howled because the pain was a living force that needed released,

And we did it together.

Nothing is more important than life.

We stayed in for our lives.

We howled for our lives.

We’re in this together. We’re going to be okay.

Wait . . .

Something is more important than life.

Money.

Money is more important

and they need money.

They.

That’s the irony.

Those who need it the most already have it.

They rule,

We follow.

And they need money.

So they take our blood.

“It’s okay, the suffering is over,” they say.

You can come out now.

“The numbers are low, you don’t have to suffer anymore,” they said.

They. The false prophet.

Come out and make your money.

You’re making it for us, they whisper, so low we don’t hear.

And we didn’t.

We didn’t hear and we listened.

We listened because the suffering hurt; it tore us apart.

The irony is that we haven’t seen anything yet.

The suffering is yet to come,

That’s what happens when you listen to false prophets.

We listened.

And then the howling stopped.

The Cemetery in the Rain

I went to the cemetery today. I haven't been since the day we put my mom's urn in the ground. It was freezing that day. I chose today because it was raining and I love rain. It seemed appropriate, and I also really wanted to be alone, and I figured no one else would go to the cemetery in 45 degree rain. I was right, and that was nice. I brought an umbrella and my headphones, some paper (all I had in my car were random scrap papers and a wrinkled folder) and a pen, and a sweater to sit on.

Because I have no sense of direction, I couldn't remember where my mom's grave was, so I wandered around for about twenty minutes, stopping and sitting on the gravel path whenever inspiration struck me. I finally found my mom, after I decided to give up looking and head back to the car. Her grave was ten feet from the car and I'd walked right past it.

Anyway, here are the poems I wrote.

Raindrops Above You

I don't know who you were
but I cried for you today.
Or maybe that was just the rain;
but either way I thought of you--
who you were and what you once wanted.

An angel statue, and a cat, tall and majestic.
The cat drew me to you; it made me think of you and cry for you today.
Maybe others were thinking of you, but maybe not today.
Today it was cloudy
Today it was rainy
Today the mountains were shadowed and gray
and cold raindrops dampened the ground above you.
Today I walked by.
Today I thought of you.


Lost in the cemetery in the rain

Lost in the cemetery.
In the rain.
It's a great title. There's so much in that one sentence.
Or is it two?
How lost am I? In what way am I lost?
Have I lost my map or made a wrong turn?
Or am I lost in my grief, lost without you.

But maybe it's only a title.
Maybe there is nothing more.

I'm only lost.

In the cemetery.
In the rain.

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Thanks for reading! If you haven't seen it yet, here's a link to the Go Fund Me my friend set up to send me to writer's conferences. https://www.gofundme.com/help-this-amazing-writer?member=51762