THE CALLING by Matthew Leal
I lift you up, your body limp, your mind lost in slurred words and selfishness,
The people stare at me as I carry you away,
“Take care of her.” He says
I apologize for the embarrassment, “please just take care of her.”
He says, with a sadness in his eyes.
The road that is familiar, the black top
the stop sign, and driveway that used to bring me home
to a family I often hid from rolls
it rolls on shortly. I wonder if the world is watching.
I can feel their eyes on you, asking questions.
I was the first one they called.
“She just needs help.” The man said to me.
The precious jewelry weighs me down to the floor
like the nails that fastened flesh to a splintering cross
Your expensive perfume and education do little to protect you
from yourself or your evil ways.
My experience is my father,
and his voice does no waver
“please hurry, she needs your help.”
I am the keeper. I am the stone.
My hands do not shake as you lie there dying
I pat your thigh and say, “are you still awake?”
the answer is half expected
because I don’t feel life from your finger tips
or a pulse on your thin wrists
made wrinkled from the years of helping others
like children wanting them to soar.
But how can you hide this world from me?
I search your most guarded secrets hunting
hunting, tearing through to find the answers
that answer a question,
How much harm have you done to yourself?
Will you die tonight?
I take your shoes off
your feet are little and tired from your walk.
Your bodies twisted from the lack of motion
I lift you up again, and set you back in place.
Your childhood lays on your pillow
I brush it aside irreverently,
cautiously,
his words ring in my ears,
“You deserve to die.”
He said to her.
He said to me.
“Take care of her.”
There is a coldness about my manner
I have no shaking hands or tears down my face
to remind me of how terrible the situation has become
because this is normal now.
The awkwardness, the intensity of your problem is normal now
and I cannot be afraid.
I haven’t been a child since your burden was placed on me
more and more, years and years.
I do my best to take care of you.
The lights are off as I continue to discover
what it is you do to destroy your heart
what it is you do to destroy my family
You whisper, “Let me go.”
The night time is like a cold bone hand
of the grim reaper
I shudder and curse the shadows back.
They cannot have you.
You will not die tonight.
We talk about you
as you lay unconscious, slobbering.
“Don’t think that this is normal.”
The words hit my eyes like they were pebbles
tick, tick, tick
but the truth is my face is not fluid
it does not ripple like lake on a clear day
with blue sky and breeze to fill my sails
rather, it is empty
so that your disappointments cannot effect me.
I leave you because I must
The news I had to tell you
the good news, I mention in passing
What could change my life and write my future
goes with little mention
your collapse has taken the air out of our lungs
we cannot enjoy the pleasures of life
because we are ashamed.
The hatred is misplaced
I encourage objectivity, be rational
don’t let your emotions get the best of you
let the memory fade and go
go and go and go about your night
let the plans you had continue
and put on your happy face
practice your laugh
practice your smile
is it convincing?
“help her, help her.” He said to me.
The evening is so simple
their problems are fun and warm
I am lost in their words with out any to offer
but I eat and eat and eat
I hunger for the goodness I cannot afford on my own
The luxuries that we once knew
before this weight fell upon our hearts
like a heavy mist, to consume us.
My home is far
so I take my child with me, she doesn’t understand
and I hope she never does
I hope that she never experiences the sadness
that I see in your loss of control.
He tells me, “You must keep this to yourself.”
I nod.
“They will just worry.” he says to me.
I nod.
“You know me. Ill be okay.”
I said to him before I closed the door.
My little girl feel asleep fast.
The dreams came to comfort her
as I ran my fingers through my hair
I cannot see you happy anymore.
When you are yourself I feel it as a deep breath
held in tight.
Because I know that you must fall apart.
I know you eventually must exhale.
Your limp body haunts my me
The surprise of your breathing is disgusting.
It is horrid.
My hands are numb.
My arms are sore.
My patience doesn’t seem to matter.
You ask for forgiveness in a bottle
in a call from the other side of the earth
you ask for forgiveness.
I tell you that I love you.
Half dead inside, I tell you that its okay
though you apologize
I tell you that everything is fine,
that I just want you to be okay.
I say softly, what if I couldn’t have been there?
What if you’d been left alone.
You cry and say “I know.”
His words echo in my head.
“Hurry, she needs help. Please take care of her.
Please take care of her.”
“Ill call you tomorrow to see if you’re okay.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Go to bed. Goodnight.”
“Please help her.”
//ww
The people stare at me as I carry you away,
“Take care of her.” He says
I apologize for the embarrassment, “please just take care of her.”
He says, with a sadness in his eyes.
The road that is familiar, the black top
the stop sign, and driveway that used to bring me home
to a family I often hid from rolls
it rolls on shortly. I wonder if the world is watching.
I can feel their eyes on you, asking questions.
I was the first one they called.
“She just needs help.” The man said to me.
The precious jewelry weighs me down to the floor
like the nails that fastened flesh to a splintering cross
Your expensive perfume and education do little to protect you
from yourself or your evil ways.
My experience is my father,
and his voice does no waver
“please hurry, she needs your help.”
I am the keeper. I am the stone.
My hands do not shake as you lie there dying
I pat your thigh and say, “are you still awake?”
the answer is half expected
because I don’t feel life from your finger tips
or a pulse on your thin wrists
made wrinkled from the years of helping others
like children wanting them to soar.
But how can you hide this world from me?
I search your most guarded secrets hunting
hunting, tearing through to find the answers
that answer a question,
How much harm have you done to yourself?
Will you die tonight?
I take your shoes off
your feet are little and tired from your walk.
Your bodies twisted from the lack of motion
I lift you up again, and set you back in place.
Your childhood lays on your pillow
I brush it aside irreverently,
cautiously,
his words ring in my ears,
“You deserve to die.”
He said to her.
He said to me.
“Take care of her.”
There is a coldness about my manner
I have no shaking hands or tears down my face
to remind me of how terrible the situation has become
because this is normal now.
The awkwardness, the intensity of your problem is normal now
and I cannot be afraid.
I haven’t been a child since your burden was placed on me
more and more, years and years.
I do my best to take care of you.
The lights are off as I continue to discover
what it is you do to destroy your heart
what it is you do to destroy my family
You whisper, “Let me go.”
The night time is like a cold bone hand
of the grim reaper
I shudder and curse the shadows back.
They cannot have you.
You will not die tonight.
We talk about you
as you lay unconscious, slobbering.
“Don’t think that this is normal.”
The words hit my eyes like they were pebbles
tick, tick, tick
but the truth is my face is not fluid
it does not ripple like lake on a clear day
with blue sky and breeze to fill my sails
rather, it is empty
so that your disappointments cannot effect me.
I leave you because I must
The news I had to tell you
the good news, I mention in passing
What could change my life and write my future
goes with little mention
your collapse has taken the air out of our lungs
we cannot enjoy the pleasures of life
because we are ashamed.
The hatred is misplaced
I encourage objectivity, be rational
don’t let your emotions get the best of you
let the memory fade and go
go and go and go about your night
let the plans you had continue
and put on your happy face
practice your laugh
practice your smile
is it convincing?
“help her, help her.” He said to me.
The evening is so simple
their problems are fun and warm
I am lost in their words with out any to offer
but I eat and eat and eat
I hunger for the goodness I cannot afford on my own
The luxuries that we once knew
before this weight fell upon our hearts
like a heavy mist, to consume us.
My home is far
so I take my child with me, she doesn’t understand
and I hope she never does
I hope that she never experiences the sadness
that I see in your loss of control.
He tells me, “You must keep this to yourself.”
I nod.
“They will just worry.” he says to me.
I nod.
“You know me. Ill be okay.”
I said to him before I closed the door.
My little girl feel asleep fast.
The dreams came to comfort her
as I ran my fingers through my hair
I cannot see you happy anymore.
When you are yourself I feel it as a deep breath
held in tight.
Because I know that you must fall apart.
I know you eventually must exhale.
Your limp body haunts my me
The surprise of your breathing is disgusting.
It is horrid.
My hands are numb.
My arms are sore.
My patience doesn’t seem to matter.
You ask for forgiveness in a bottle
in a call from the other side of the earth
you ask for forgiveness.
I tell you that I love you.
Half dead inside, I tell you that its okay
though you apologize
I tell you that everything is fine,
that I just want you to be okay.
I say softly, what if I couldn’t have been there?
What if you’d been left alone.
You cry and say “I know.”
His words echo in my head.
“Hurry, she needs help. Please take care of her.
Please take care of her.”
“Ill call you tomorrow to see if you’re okay.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Go to bed. Goodnight.”
“Please help her.”
//ww