A Thousand Deaths

I didn’t mourn your death

I mourned the life you’d reject

I mourned the humor you lost

I mourned the intellect it cost

You died a thousand small deaths

before you took your last breath

One long continuous exhale year after year

All life squeezed out, expunged by fear

Flashes of spit, blood smeared, voices raised

Arms twisted, veins tied off, eyes crazed

I proceed with life, though I know you follow

You sit in the corner watching, shrouded in shadow

I watched the blue as it faded from your eyes

Searching for any small sign of life

I stood in the hall, watching from the door

As you writhed in pain on the floor

Arms flailing, your body twisting and contorting

Mouth wide open, screaming, wanting more

Every morning mustering up just enough strength

Just to push in a little more death into your skin

For years I was forced to watch helplessly and listen

To your heartbeat, to your shallow breath

To your withdrawal, hate-filled berating

And that final call for your next of kin.

Published by LESSONS LEARNED FROM THE RAINBOW

As a poor kid growing up in the Mississippi Delta, there was never alot of hope or many opportunities. But, for 30 minutes, if I could sit in front of my tv, I could go anywhere and be anything through the magic of Reading Rainbow. That show brought so much light into some really dark days; and I carried the lessons I learned through the storytelling of Lavar Burton for all my life. Now that I am a grandmother, I've come to realize the significance of Reading Rainbow and the role it played in making me the woman I am today. I feel that the cruelty in this world has hardened my heart against the hope and valorous spirit that I once had. I am hoping that by revisiting Reading Rainbow; and the stories covered over its expansive reign on Public Access Television, I will regain the love for life and craving for adventure that the little girl growing up on Hunter Road had over 40 years ago.

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