Come back.
It’s been a year, today,
since you went away.
You’re no longer in pain,
and life has never been the same.
I’ve not been the same.
Something about you dying,
something inside me changed.
I can’t call you every day.
I tried to call you that day.
That fucking Monday.
That fucking Columbus Day.
I still weep for you.
I weep for all the things you’ll never see me do.
I weep for all the time that I’ll never get to spend with you.
I weep for everything I wasn’t able to do for you.
And yet, I know there was nothing I could do.
This decision was entirely up to you.
And you chose. And I get it.
I fucking get it. It makes sense.
Fuck you, still. You can’t imagine
the pain you’ve put me through.
It’s been a year.
It still hasn’t gotten easier.
It’s been a year.
The world has moved on,
and yet, I am still here.
Father, you were 55.
Father, you were my guide.
Father, you were my light.
You’ve gone too far ahead now.
I can see you no longer.
Come back. Come back.
Father!
Links!
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/572s5y/feedback_request_wrinkled_life/d8oj9pm
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/56w269/my_depression/d8ojrsm
Posted Oct 12, 2016, 8:42 AM UTC · edited
24
The deeply personal nature of the work makes it difficult to launch a critique. I had some misgivings about the use of a rhyming scheme - often, the writer finds themselves bound to it - but you abandoned it where necessary, and that strengthens the piece overall. Your repetition of 'it's been a year' really hammers home the grief in a way that other sections don't; a year is both long and short, and your refrain demonstrates the incredibly difficult grieving process. The poem benefits from the fact that it is not a loving dirge; the author is still in two minds about their loss,and this creates a pervasive feeling of conflict that will never truly be resolved. A sad and beautiful poem.