"Corrections"
I wrought in these manacles,
Writhing and squirming.
There's no escape
From this inferno.
It is not a journey of the sole.
Complacent and numb,
She ignores my words
And looks away.
She is battered and worn
Like a used bouquet,
Once thrown with great hope.
Resplendent blossoms,
Are now soiled with age.
Light dances through the iron,
And gleams on a puddle.
Only during their waltz
Can I see her face.
It is full of withered leaves,
Rotted to its core.
I wrote that for a beautiful girl I once knew. Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a faraway land. When we were both young and carefree. When she was the one I followed into the depths of hell at times & into the haven of escapism at others. She was forever lost in a haze of her own doing. The poem is about a woman in jail & her reaction upon getting a glimpse of her own reflection. Today the subject of my poem is no longer with us. Her story ends tragically with a leap from a balcony. All of the guilt I feel for turning my back on her is nothing. Nothing compared to the loss of a once beautiful, vibrant and hopeful life marred by drugs, violence & exploitation. Life is a slippery, winding slope of inexplicable moments. My reflections & reminiscing on the moments we shared brings me deep sadness. I once lived with her & we shared every moment of our lives together. I reared her children in the best way a 17 year old knew how. I later loathed what she represented because each time I looked at her I only saw the teenage version of myself that was so desperate for attention and love. I loved her as a sister once. I loved her children as my own. Today her life ended abruptly as in a great Shakesperean tragedy. Today I write about the loving woman that turned to all the wrong solutions to relieve herself of pain. The woman who was only a scared, little girl. The woman who only ever wanted a loving family to come home to & to be loved by one & all. She never achieved that single dream.
Today I write of a woman that I loved. . .to beg forgiveness for not saving her from the demons that haunted her to the very end.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Nichole Cherise Amyotte August 15, 1979 - April 16, 2011
