WILTED

Wilted
9-6-24

Back turned from the present and I’m facing the past.

They say that nothing is meant to last.

I see my old home, once busy with life.

And how all of that turned into mind numbing strife.

Horse stalls, chicken coop, goats, and breeding rabbits for meat.

Try to beat the midsummer heat.

Pull dandelions from the side yard for the little bunnies.

Bees fly form flower to flower for their honey.

Dig in the garden and watch everything grow.

The childhood they ransacked… they stole.

Run with the dogs and watch the hawks fly over head.

Early chores and loathing to get out of bed.

Ground work with the horses as deer pass by.

Find frogs and lizards in the backyard if you really try.

Bring a basket for eggs and another for veggies.

Carry feed bags and water buckets, why do they have to be so heavy ?

As you pick some strawberries your hands will stain red.

Ignore the yelling and persistent dread.

Hear the rooster in the morning with his persistent crow.

Fight the heavy and iced water hose.

Water rushes off the mountain
Creating over flow ponds
Now all the wild flowers are dead and gone

Brush the horse and chase her around the pen, stubborn she never listened well.

Horseback riding, now those created stories to tell.

The dogs, my favorite friends, would run around while I did the chores.

With them by my side, I never got bored.

Always at my heals, with those big concerned eyes.

The only ones that were there when I cried.

The dogs came when I was alone and whimpered when I fell.
I held them while I cried and played and made them stories to tell
They brought happiness that was mine.
The love that was left behind

That back yard, my escape from my reality.
Now skeletons and remaining casualties.

Looking at that house now, a numbness grows and i feel empty.
There ghosts are what follows me.
Cowgirl boots and a spirit that didn’t leave

Trying to desperately distract herself from the persistent fighting inside that house.

Scurry around like a wild barn mouse.

I entertained myself on my own
And always preferred when I was alone
Run over the rocks and Rolling Stones

I spent all my life wanting to be alone.
This is where I was safe, it was my home.

I stare at the wilted garden and all the empty animal pens.
They are all dead and gone, my only friends…

Once I was gone, no chance to survive
I’ll forever carry them in my mind

Responsibility for their demise lingers over my head.

The inevitable constant dread.

Emptiness is what I feel, when I look at that backyard.
My childhood burned to ashes.
My happiness to discard.

I often see her face, of that little wild girl.
Who ran through the wind, her hair whirled.
She sang to herself and ran through the dirt.
She would keeping running, even through her hurt.

The death of the childhood she thought she knew

Mercilessly stolen years of pain to ensue