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Mei Mortuus Praevius
Don't let the title scare you - it means "My Past Death" in Latin - though I may not have the grammar correct - I never formally studied Latin. However, I was inspired to write the following as the sixth anniversary of two deaths looms, one on the 2nd of September, the other on the 8th. Both happened in 2002.
The poem, though laced with plenty of metaphor, is true ... after my mentor and friend died, my mother came to Florida to begin setting his estate in order. She died while she was here. I literally went insane for three years. I was committed to the nut ward more than a few times, and I couldn't get off the sauce for all the infantile "poor me's" I kept shouting from rooftops, gutters and laughing academies.
Nobody should have to endure the same selfish kind of pain - and I hope someone may learn from this ... so here goes:
MEI MORTUUS PRAEVIUS
When the dark dreams came, I did not see
until their shadows were cast on the day.
Night was a view to what next I would be
insights to pain I was granted or gave.
So much love I eschewed, love I would need,
and hearts of the shunned found their grave!
The day would die as the heartless survived
to regret all silence of rage.
Echoes of cries never heard as they lied
of a comic'ly tragic page.
Reading and hearing knew nothing of him
who passed on their loves cavalier.
And the dreams that foretold such sorrows grim
forsaken for fantasy's fear!
Joy found friend in the shimmering air
carrying shadow and light.
The hours and dreams were lost without care -
given away without fight.
The heart of heartless sought death as a dare
turning false joys to a plight!
Lengthy days and nights turned to years;
hatred became the mundane.
Whilst motherless child heard the jeers
of happiness going insane
Lost were dreams and forgotten tears
and still he needed the pain
Feeling the death means life, 'tis queer,
but true for reclaiming day!
Biting my tongue, suppressing my words
the lies fall silent at last!
No more I believe heretical terms
spoken to impress the masses.
Perfection not won, but life is earned;
and the tears are shed, alas!
Night ends amid a merciful purge
of darkness from my past!
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