The Call

The Call

A Poem by Annette Jay Sweeney
"

Ring...Ring...Ring...

"

A distant ringing disturbs

my train of thought, I answer

absentmindedly at first before

my attention is snapped to the present.

A sense of wrong springs through my body

as she tells me something impossible.

Clouds obscure the lens of my mind,

a darkness so cold envelops my chest,

I can’t hear the words anymore.

 

My legs carry me out to the car

on their own accord. A glance

in the mirror reveals a person I

do not know. My eyes are so red

they appear to be half-eaten

peppermints spit out early. 

The void plain in my face

gives me a sunken, starved look.

 

Whatever music is playing

I don’t acknowledge. Who knows if it is

even playing at all. I don’t feel the stick

shift graze my palm, my shoe caress

the pedal as my foot presses. I don’t

see the lights and signs as I pass them.

If a car honked, I didn’t hear it.

I am not really there-

 

I see her twinkling eyes that could

shine like jewels in a play-time tiara.

I hear her laughter that rings

the bells of my childhood.

I feel her arms wrapped around me

like a baby in newborn blankets.

I smell that clean, fresh scent

of love, comfort, and home.

 

The car jerks, a loud noise, and the fog clears

if only for a moment. I glance down,

I tried to start off in second gear.

This sends a chill down my spine,

I wonder if I should be driving at all.

I’m already almost there, I might

as well finish the laborious journey home.

The night is a swirl of images,

a lack of focus that invades

all sensation. Nothing can distract

or calm me. I cannot escape the

shadow that I have become.

 

Sleep comes after many hours.

At first my dreams are a haze

of color, but then it’s all clear.

I find myself standing there,

watching the doorway intently.

She stands there in her familiar

purple dress, her brilliant teeth

flashing a smile in my direction.

No one else sees her, but she is so

vivid I cannot take my eyes away.

 

I remember the truth and see her as

she is, a flashing memory burned into

my mind. She doesn’t say anything,

but watches me with caring eyes.

Calm and serenity wash over my soul,

healing me in a way I did not think

possible. Debbie.

 

When I awake the pain is still there,

but I feel a sense of inspiration. I

make it through all of the rounds,

guarding silently over the sanity

of those I love. We all make it,

but it is an experience burned into

our very beings. We are forever

changed, but we move on, for

we shall meet with her again.

© 2010 Annette Jay Sweeney


Author's Note

Annette Jay Sweeney
I wrote this about my god mother back in 2008. She passed away suddenly and I got the call at work. It was the worst thing I have ever gone through. I have seen lots of other death, but this one was the hardest. The amazing part about everything is that I did have a very vivid dream about her. Not everyone believes that someone's spirit can come to you and dreams. I didn't at the time, but she came to me in a dream. It provided the comfort I needed.

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… it’s not often that one comes across a span of time as brilliantly expressed as this … reading this verse is like living every second of it as it unfolds … one is enveloped completely in its universe … gripped by its poignant seconds … held by its melancholic aura … one breathes it … one feels it … and then one exudes it … this is outstanding not just because of the way the loss has been written about it … or the way it has been felt … but for the way that it has been etched and shared … it is a spell in the silent moments of loss … and it lingers interminably …

… “distant ringing” … the narrator is preoccupied … “attention is snapped to the present” … devastation strikes … “something impossible” … the sheer disbelief at the news of the loss … “clouds obscure the lens of my mind” … “a darkness so cold envelops my chest” … “i can’t hear the words anymore” … the numbness of pain … the intensity of the struggle to comprehend what has happened … all expressed with exceptional poetic skill and precision … and the din-like silence that reverberates and obliterates all sound … “my legs carry me to the car” … the inability to move captured with a numbing sadness … “my eyes are so red they appear to be half-eaten” … a brutally moving depiction of stinging and unending tears … “the void plain in my face” … an expression of loss that is experienced physically and spiritually … “i don’t feel the stick shift graze my palm” … the numbness transcending all experiences of movement and sensation … “i don’t see the lights and signs as i pass them” … “i’m not really there” … an expression of loss that’s felt even more intensely physically, mentally and emotionally … life-numbing … and then a wave of memories … “i see her twinkling eyes” … “i hear her laughter” … “i smell that clean, fresh scent of love, comfort, and home” … and the warmth of memories melts the numbing … “i tried to start off in second gear” … “i wonder if i should be driving at all” … the expression of oscillation in the moments of complete devastation … “a lack of focus that invades all sensation” … “i cannot escape the shadow that i have become” … the expression of a complete absence of experiencing existence as a response to the loss of a special one to death … and then the dream … “she stands there in her familiar purple dress” … “a flashing memory burned into my mind” … “calm and serenity wash over my soul” … and solace reaches in the form of a life-like experience … a dream of magical memories … to be recalled and recounted … to cherish … to celebrate the life now lost … “when i wake the pain is still there but i feel a sense of inspiration” … beautifully expressed … and the essence of existence expressed with profound simplicity in these last lines makes this verse remarkably memorable … “we are forever changed, but we move on, for we shall meet with her again” …

(serah)
(editor, the fourth dimension blog)

Posted 13 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

You were truly loved then. Thank you so very much for sharing your heart with us. I can relate to your "encounter" experience. Thank you!!

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

There are some very nice examples of climaxes in this poem-

"The car jerks, a loud noise, and the fog clears"

And metaphors as well -
"The night is a swirl of images"

I really liked it. I thought it was a touch frank, but the lovely flow covered it up.
To express a horrifyingly traumatic event takes a lot of you. Always.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Though this kind of ends with a relief and spiritual evaluation of a depressing subject, the overall tone describes (often darkly but then it is a dark subject) what many have probably felt at the shock of losing a loved one. I know exactly where it comes from. There's isn't much that can be said here properly on the subject, as it is too strong an emotion to discuss in real terms, but this poem, I think encapsulates this emotion quite well.
I'm not entirely in accordance with the final affirming consolation -though i can understand those views- as I think it is never a realistically sufficient comfort in actual life until much much later. The memory of the person is what keeps them with us. Thought-provoking anyhow, and a worthy tribute to the passing of someone clearly missed.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow I am so sorry.
This is a very emotional write here.


Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

A very emotional poetic recount of such a horrendous event in your life. I can only imagine the pain her death cause inside of you, and your poem accurately captures your feelings for her. Beautiful write. I, too, believe that people can come to us in our dreams, I think it is our contact to the supernatural, or the spirits of the heavens.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on May 12, 2010
Last Updated on May 12, 2010

Author

Annette Jay Sweeney
Annette Jay Sweeney

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Reading and writing have always provided a loving escape for me, but both are now taking on a more serious level. I thrive on reading others' work and helping them to improve, while also depicting my .. more..

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