Blistered hands, sweat dried
palms, he grimaces at the pain
blood warm trickles
along his wrists
congealed between his fingers
he continues, bearing the hurt
of flesh and soul
He digs, metal glistens under
crescent moon, branches kiss in the
wind so cold
wipes tears with the back of his
dirtied hand
and he hurts more than when he plowed
the crusted earth
The birds are silent, their sanctuary
threatened amongst the boughs
he lifts his head and cries
the salt enters his mouth
whilst the river weaves its way
‘tween fallen logs
How far must he dig, thoughts
of her cries turning to screams
and he so helpless
in the hours that it took
just he and her, with flaxen hair
sticking to her brow
He brought her here
away from town to start new lives
on this barren land, she did for him
lived here, isolated
this now the punishment
as he stares into the deepened hole
Why her, innocent, young
so beautiful
hearing her laughter in his ears
the kiss of melting lips
before her body
writhed in pain, what would happen to
them now, carrying her body, his love
in blood soaked cotton dress
he heard the plaintive cries
of his newborn son.
Copyright JMTacken 2.11.2014
Wow!
Too kind, thank you Laine, appreciated.
Incredible J, really felt it.
Thank you so much R. Appreciated.
Welcome J
this is incredibly powerful and painful, jen. what an incredibly painful situation – you are a word master.
Oh Beth, way too kind. I don’t consider myself a word master, perhaps just my imagination makes it seem that way, thank you hun ❤ x
Holy sh…..this is A++fantastic. Damn, girl
Ech you make me smile darlin’ guess that what develops when I’m up in dem dare hills, I curtsy, thank you so much for overly generous marking . Hugs x
How hard, life and love and loss. Powerfully descriptive of the emotional part of an already hard life.
I guess being up in the country made me feel to write this, Looking at the farms and properties up here. Thank you Colleen. x
This is a wonderful and powerful story! I knew what was coming but prayed to be wrong. Great poem!! ❤
Thank you darling, a tough life indeed back then. Thank you for reading xxx
my pleasure I enjoyed it!
I am glad ❤ xx
Do you have a grandchild: “newborn son”? ❤
Oh no Jack, nothing quite so cryptic, purely fictional, though I wait to be Nanna.. And hope one day I will be. ❤
What a heart-wrenching story, Jen. Really good reading, but a little painful. Excellent. ❤
Thank you Tess, glad you liked, though yes a little distressing to read. ❤ xx
❤ ❤ ❤
i caught on early on…esp when he asks how far he has to dig…that this was a burial…oy so hard…my MIL passed on several years back and i keep waiting for the call on my FIL as he seems to have little to live for in her absence…
Bri, sorry if this brought painful memories for you. I feel your pain though…the call that no one of us want to receive. Sadly that is what happens, when a partner goes, the other is so terribly lost and doesn’t have the will to continue without them. Hugs my friend that the phone call is a long way away yet. x
Beautifully written Jenny, moments of pain expressed so clearly.
Thank you so much Michael, I am glad you enjoyed, thank you for reading.
Absolutely beautiful, Jen xxxx
Thank you sweetheart xxx
I was feeling quite drawn into this dramatic poem, wishing it became a short story about the two involved along with the little wee one. It is a great tribute to you when you read the comments, finding everyone on ‘pins and needles,’ Jen! I felt sad for the couple, very hopeful that they will hold each other, once his hands are not dirty and their life may have hope. That is me, giving it a happy ending! ha ha! xoxo
Oh my goodness, I changed the one who died from the woman, you were excellent in your description, but I jumped to the conclusion that it was the baby who died. So sorry, now you may just scribble or edit my comment!
This dramatic poem was beautiful and so sad, I felt it was about their loss of a baby, even though it was his wife who died in childbirth. The hopeful part in your story will be when the child realizes once grown, of his mother’s love and sacrifice. Take care and just ignore the last comment! Smiles! xoxo
I read your first comment, thinking to myself, Hmm poetry is up to interpretation, never mind hun, it happens, I do it too 😊 thank you for your kind words darling. Yes, he will know, through his father and that will be the happy ending. Have a good night…day? Hugs xxoo
Thanks for understanding. Sometimes we put our own spin on things, interpreting how we may tell a story. I was hoping this would not bother you, so went back and there you are, being warm about my mistake and making me feel much better about this ‘oops!’ Thanks, Jen. I would never mean to hurt you or act like I can read your mind, either! smiles back
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Jen this is quite something. I love it! xx
Thank you my darling. One day I shall write of buttercups and rainbows…possibly. Hope al, is well on your side, sleep over soon! 😘😘💛
stark, powerful, and that sense of helplessness, yet, maybe, a glimmer of hope ~
Thank you Michael, a glimmer of a newborn cry..always hope,appreciate you reading.