Acedia: The Bedlam Rainfall

The results of overbearing guilt, and a situation that turned out fine (but sure didn't seem like it would).

Tuesday night
Cozy in suburbia
during a storm
Noshing intermittently
during reruns
like the glutton I am
Couch-plastered and sinful

Sister grabs a coat
and her emotions morph shadowed
dubious and motherly
like any Samaritan neighbor
I perk my eye to the frenzy
scarlet, navy, vague tension
in front of the house to our right

Stepping outside, it is blistering
freezing rain and abysmal depths of sky
there is melancholy imminent

We're insidiously stricken with paranoia
They're Lebanese, and bigotry reigns
in our wartime armada
if they're arrested, I'm breaking them out
I'm revolting
I won't stand for it
but no...
an ambulance comes
minutes... minutes... deadening dormancy
What the f**k happened?
... palpitating flash! ajar!
EMT's rush in and so do the prophets
the blankets of Islam
the softness of god
and their dearest companion in Dystopia

It continues to rain
harder, insane
and my shoes are soaked to my death
I am gagged, stuffed of revelation
and cleansed
in sheer, wet arctic madness
The trauma ascends

Stricken
the youngest is cuddled in a blanket
in the shoulders of an ambulance worker
Of course, disrupted precocity
the little girl has been claimed
victim of mad tradition
destiny's avarice, perhaps
her mother bolts out
blood red sweater and blood red tears
I've never seen such passion flowing
thru and thru
onward to infinity

I can feel the aura of our street darken
Their house is decimated, a requiem
Accursed fate
Accursed god
Accursed rain
My accursed self

Paces, paces, paces, clutter back and forth by their kitchen window
I see their nerves from behind my picket fence
because I'm hiding
I'm placid, detached and distraught
a busted nerve, a breakdown
who's completely ice-frigid, cool on the outside

What do I do? They are so close knit a family
To barge in and offer my condolences would be intrusive
and wicked
To shut up and let the drama
that palpable, un-I drama
fade away with days and new thoughts
that would be a worse crime
I end up sending a text
What the f**k's wrong with me
Acedia

Author's Note

Perhaps I should say something here. I can think not of something to say.