A two-voice poem or narrative can take many different forms: a discourse of two different voices, an expression of the outer voice vs. inner voice--a "what he said, what he thinks" approach; or the same voice at two different times in life, i.e. before and after an event, the childhood voice and the adult voice, etc. This piece is an autobiographical reflection which needed to be written in the latter format.
October 29, 1961 October 29, 2011
"Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate," “Sometimes healing comes through the rain,”
we sing the song we learned yesterday the song lyrics
loop over and over
in music class as we walk to school through my mind pushed through my
sounding like naughty little angels. subconscious by the Holy
Spirit,
My neighbor Skippy and I knowing I need them right now,
this moment.
cross the tracks after looking both ways, Trudging through wet gold and brown leaves
continue past D'Abates' corner store while walking
around Hudson Springs Park,
where I go to buy Necco wafers when the sweet smell of autumn intoxicates me,
I have a nickel. reminding
me that life has its rewards
Wearing rubbers over our shoes if we slow down long enough to pay attention.
we slide two more blocks to We had no choice, my sister Linda and I.
South State Street School Mom was found wandering the streets in
through yellow and brown leaves wet Painesville at
midnight last Thursday.
from last night's rain. This time we
couldn’t intervene.
I love school even though We had to allow her
to experience
my first grade teacher, Mrs. Bender, the consequences of her illness
doesn't smile very much. with no cushion of last minute
enabling.
I don't think she likes me, “Your mother suffers from
But I love being here, safe and warm, histrionic personality disorder,
We sit in reading circles where borderline personality disorder, and
I wait eagerly for my turn to read obsessive compulsive disorder
out loud the happy story about which
explains her extreme hoarding issues,”
Dick and Jane and little Sister Sally and the social worker explained last summer
the dog "See Spot run" across soft when her mental illness spiraled out of control—
picture pages. the prevarications,
They don't get yelled at like I do at home her involvement with strangers,
and Mother and Father in the story the daily abuse of loved ones and
don't yell and hit each other. the social service systems
Wish my Mommy and Daddy were set up to assist seniors with valid needs.
more like them and that our house Lord,
had a white picket fence. help me to separate the sin from the sinner—
My Mom is always busy whom do we
blame--our mother or her illness—
in the other room. when she files a lawsuit against a loved one
She doesn't talk much except for trivial
matters
on the phone. or calls the police as a way of intimidating
My baby sister Linda isn't old enough a friend for
not returning her phone calls
to play with me yet. or fraudulently misuses funds assigned to her
Mom doesn't pick her up much for housing
and transportation
when she cries. or asks a doctor to tell her daughter that if
She cries a lot. she doesn’t
get invited, she will commit suicide?
I wish I could pick her up, but I'm not How do we find a way to keep her safe
Allowed and I'm not tall enough to and preserve our sanity?
reach over the bars of the playpen Today, ironically, she herself showed us how
anyway. October 29 by spinning such a tight web of
anyway. October 29 by spinning such a tight web of
So I practice my reading deceptions on a cold and rainy autumn
and I practice my letters, night, she entangled
herself and this time,
legs outstretched under the coffee table, just this once, was unable to slip out
And I walk down to the playground from the slippery gossamer of sin and
To meet up with Skippy. deception and
dementia.
