My Son Part 3: Half of Her Life

“The being he’s been waiting for has just opened her eyes.
There was a feeling of dread, but not a look of surprise.
He knew her at first site but she did not know his face,
He had his work cut out for him, her memory to replace.
A man who was a monster had perfected an art,
to bring back the dead and do it with just one body part.
Her husband had brought in a container of red,
and there was no touch of guilt or second thought in his head.
He would have her love,
the one who went away.
The one who made a promise,
half of her, the body, but the mind decayed.
And as the weeks past, he fed her the past.
But the scars on her wrists were given no fact,
He said she must got them from broken windows or barbed wire,
the blood covered furniture and clothes went into the fire.
She ate it all up and her husband was content,
He didn’t have it all, but it was worth what he spent.
But every so often, his memory took him to,
the horrible consequences of the life he would choose.
But he would still have her love,
and he would get her back slowly.
She would forget her promise,
half of her, man-made, and surely unholy.
But she always grew restless when he wasn’t around.
When she closed her eyes and tried hard no explanation was found.
Then wandered into a room where the standing mirror was stashed,
and too her surprise, it wasn’t her in the glass.
But it looked as if it was a younger look-a-like.
And the image moved it lips, spoke and had a voice like a spike.
She would show off her arms and reveal no scars,
and she’d tell her of the real reason that her memories depart.
“He just wanted your love;
did he mention your son?
I can see not by the look in your eyes”
Half of her, other in the mirror, she couldn’t shun.
She confronted her husband with the story she heard,
and he just stood still and spoke not a word.
And without even thinking twice gathered all the mirrors,
and locked them in the basement to hide from his fears.
And in fury, he jumped on her, strangled her, bashed her head.
But you know you can’t kill what is already dead!
The tears in his eyes, he couldn’t bare that she knew the truth,
He passed out from exhaustion and she took him to his room.
He just wanted her love,
and now it was falling apart.
But she wandered to the basement of mirrors,
Half-and-half brought together from the dark.
He awoke and the memories came back,
so slow he had to catch his breath.
But he heard laughing in the dining room,
He rushed into to see pictures of a bride and groom.
His lovely wife regained her mind,
and forgave her love for she knew he meant right.
And they sat together and laughed without shivers,
looking for hours at wedding pictures.
He just wanted her love,
and he had found it at last.
The deeds may have been in sin,
More or less, who’s to guess?
With or without a son,
they sealed their love with a kiss.
Because the promise was built on their love,
two halves, sown together, at the wrists”.

Β© Delia Ross. 2010

My Son Part 2: The Note Beneath His Pillow

“My darling husband, I can’t look at your face,
I made a promise but it went to waste.
The lovely day when we became one,
and the lovely night when we planned our son.
But now I’ve never felt so low before,
I don’t want to look in your eyes anymore.
I saw your pain when you heard the news,
we asked God for another but he must have refused.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

The one that I knew could carry my soul,
the one who could shield me from the cold.
You lent me all that you had inside,
I tried to give him to you, you know that I tried.
I saw you crying as I came to,
Losing myself was all I could do.
I never looked right at you again,
I regret it now, since you needed a friend.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

And I was wallowing and rolling in the pool of blood,
The Rivers that originated from me would flood.
All I tasted and felt was the death,
of my baby boy who would never have breath.
I cried for you, baby; I cried for you in fright,
Years went by in that one horrid night.
Would we ever be the same? Would we ever smile?
Would I ever get over it? Am I too fragile?
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

Things are a little more clear now;
there is a sense of peace in the solution I found.
Strange I choose to bathe in blood;
again, it might as well be mud.
And soon I’ll rest in the dirt with the worms,
and never again feel this heart that burns.
I may be letting you down again,
but it’s only one more time, you were my very best friend.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.”

Β© Delia Ross. 2010

Stay tuned for: My Son Part 3: Half of Her Life