Keepsake

Keepsake

A Poem by jacob erin-cilberto


Keepsake

 

 

angry skin reacts

from abrasive touch

even though a soft heart

embraces the pain,

with abiding love

 

the nature of unselfishness

comes at a cost

a bruise, a fall

a life

 

angry skin reacts

because it understands

no amends can be made

for what won't mend

 

compliance of a pliant will

and acid acrimony 

toward matrimony

leaves one

 

angry skin remembers

even as the worms nestle close

to the skeletal finger

still wearing the ring

 

that came at such a cost.

 

 

erin-cilberto

9/21/19

© 2019 jacob erin-cilberto


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Reviews

It is funny that the pattern rarely rouses enough suspicion for us to even realise that we are absently scratching that angry keepsake so often Jacob.
I vaguely recall from a long ago class being told that the fingerprint part of our skin can feel something about 30 times thinner than a human hair. Then I grew up, fell in love and realised just how much the rest of our skin can feel that puts our fingertips to shame.
I was once bruised from an irate stare I didn't even see. 😀

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

3 Weeks Ago

i am glad i wrote this piece...it was worth it just to get your very perceptive and interesting revi.. read more
Lorry

3 Weeks Ago

She had better senses than me. She could feel what I was thinking from another zip code 😀
I believe we are viewing the endgame of an abusive relationship here. One partner was unselfish and compliant in the face of anger and violence. The last lines reveal the outcome of that unequal contest. Sad, but an apt description of too many relationships.

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

3 Weeks Ago

thank you for your kind words, John,
j.
I love this poem. It says a lot in a few words and judging from the comments a lot of people can relate to it (which is unfortunate that they had to go through difficult experiences)
But writing can heal souls and that's why we do it and I hoped you touched people's hearts with your poem and healed them just a little.

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

3 Weeks Ago

thank you for your kind review,
j.
Do we all have such memories? As I read the comments below I feel it's true. My step-father was a drunkard. I was too young to remember how many times my mother went to his job to save it for him. She was a pretty woman and young me thought she only talked to him. When he was angry, I became his punching bag or kickball. Unfortunately, for me, I looked too much like my natural father. I had a younger sister and I can remember early mornings when he would take her in the bathroom with him. Again I was very young and didn't fully understand.
Take care - Dave

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

3 Weeks Ago

wow, Dave...those are harsh memories...i appreciate your sharing, but wish it hadn't been that way f.. read more
Dave

3 Weeks Ago

Yes - but they are all gone now, even my younger sister. Stepfather smoked like a chimney! Does m.. read more
Verse prior to last line . . . exquisite imagery to conjure: "and in death" . . . Your overall msg reminds me of a sister who sees scars on her own arms, often shows scars to me (I can't see them), seemingly as badges to show how bad our childhood was. Some people carry their brokenness around like a keepsake & you nailed it in this poem (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

3 Weeks Ago

thank you, Margie...thank you.
j.
The power in these words stirs "angry skin" within my framework too as it has in other readers jacob - - so clearly expressed this exposure of love "that embraces pain" and reading on I can feel "the abrasive touch" of that which cannot mend and my eyes fill with tears......................such a touching last line to think on and to remember in this lament.

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

4 Weeks Ago

thank you for your understanding, Fay...
j.
As one divorced more than once this has a profound effect and it's brutal honesty, writen so eloquently has a mesmerising quality and yet one of foreboding and sad inevitability.

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

4 Weeks Ago

thank you for relating in your way, John....
j.
This was a thing with the men (loosely termed) I grew up around. They were abusive. I remember cowering in fear in dark corners as a child, listening to the sounds of my mother crying and screaming as she was punched and thrown around on the other side of the wall. I vividly remember the black boot print on the front of the outside door, which had been kicked in in a drunken stupor. A cake, which had been baked and was sitting on the table, was thrown across the room. I remember my mother fleeing the house, taking my two sisters with her, leaving me behind. I remember him telling me to lay in bed beside him, putting his arm over my waist, asking me to wake him when she returned. I remember the fear of what he might do, the sense of abandonment at being left behind, while she made sure she took my sisters with her. I remember swearing it would never happen to me. It did. There's nothing worse than the fear, the crying that has no tears, and the invisible hand that steals your breath. Thank God this is no longer a part of my life.

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

4 Weeks Ago

i am so glad to hear that is no longer a part of your life, Linda...no one should ever have to suffe.. read more
'acid acrimony toward matrimony' how caustic is that?

I feel burns here that do not heal and the skeletal finger still wearing the ring is the loser. Not keepsakes I would like to be left with, either the burns or the ring. Sounds as though one party took the partnership far more seriously than the other. Strong poem Jacob.

Chris

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


jacob erin-cilberto

4 Weeks Ago

thank you for your words, Chris.
j.

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Added on September 21, 2019
Last Updated on September 21, 2019

Author

jacob erin-cilberto
jacob erin-cilberto

Carbondale, IL



About
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at two community colleges and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. Friending works two ways. If we have had .. more..

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