Picture Frame
A Poem by Shanerator
Moisture and salt, I taste my tears.
Where did my life go wrong?
The masquerade of my career
Has gone for far too long.
For years I’ve tried to mask the pain
And force a sincere smile.
But deep within, nothing remains
Of my soul all the while.
Delving into bottle and pills
Did little to repair
The empty self and lack of will –
The crux of my despair.
And like a storm, it culminates,
The feelings overpower.
Tonight I will remove these weights
That cripple every hour.
I’m on my knees, my chin held high.
I mourn into the night.
I’m done. Who sees? Who hears my cry?
Can someone make this right?
Curtains drawn tight, the shades pulled down,
Darkness pervades my room.
No one to hear my troubled sounds;
No one to hear my gloom.
Within my grip, I clutch the blade
And glance down at my wrist.
I hear the trip of Death’s parade,
They’re prancing from the mist.
A glint of light, I pause the maim –
My gaze is drawn away.
Atop the shelf, a photo’s frame
Resting. A still display.
I stand, then hunch and edge slowly
Toward the old picture.
A blackened film of dust wholly
Veils all through gray mixture.
My palm removes the ancient hue
Of grime that clouds the glass.
Color and life and more protrude
Beneath the dusty mass.
The smiles and warmness that results
From ‘neath the window pane –
A younger child and two adults
Stare from a blessed domain.
How warm weather and cheery light
Surround the three themselves!
I smell and taste summer delight –
I’m once again aged twelve.
Grand oaks stand tall against the clouds,
Great boughs provide the shade.
Within, the trio laughs out loud.
A joyous promenade.
Sunlight! The friendly warmth gives way
Through wooden canopy.
As if to say: “Hello! Good day!”
And greet the family.
The birds, they chirp. The flowers bloom.
Picnic basket in tow.
Our hands clasped tight, we dance. In June –
No cares in that meadow.
Moisture and salt. I taste my tears.
The beads stream down my cheek.
Reverie halts. It disappears.
‘Tween shaky breaths I speak:
“Oh Mom and Dad, you loved me so.
I understand that much.
Oh when and where’d I choose to go
And push away your touch?”
Their eyes, so full of peace and love
Watch me from ‘yond the frame.
Though in Heaven they live above
I almost hear my name.
Father speaks first: “Life may get tough.
And that’s normal, you see.
What matters most when things get rough
Is where your head must be.
Look up. This oak? It sees a lot.
From wind to rain to snow.
What keeps the tree in this one spot
Is roots in what it knows.
Like this one tree, you’ll go through years
Of bad seasons and good.
They both help us the same way here –
They grow us, like this wood.
“Along those lines,” Mom speaks at last.
“When all seems lost and gone.
Recall this too will come to pass…
The dusk before the dawn.
You may feel led to think bad thoughts
Or worse, give up the fight.
Hear me, my son, please don’t be caught
By him who speaks white lies.
Instead, think twice, past the surface –
On that worth living for.
You have been made for a purpose!
Why take another door?”
While those sage words drift in the air
Like that one summer breeze.
My mom and dad, they hug me there
Beneath those grand oak trees.
A thud, a clang – it breaks the spell.
The scene abruptly ends.
My eyes, they spot the noise, what fell
Was the blade from my hands.
Unmoved, Untouched. The knife resigned.
Gaze back from whence it came.
Upon that dusty shelf of mine –
Upon that picture frame.
Dear Mom and Dad, thank you so much
For being there for me.
Even without your earthly touch
I understand, I see!
Life changes tides, it ebbs and flows.
A swinging pendulum.
Though fires of Hell rise from below,
The rain will also come.
I will remember those who care
And those who I think of.
They do exist, someone out there –
Someone who hears, who loves.
Moisture and salt, I taste my tears.
The tears of peace that fall.
No more sorrow. I’ll face my fears.
This life is valuable.