who will make it right?
Poetry comes to me in waves in times of intense emotion. Often, the poems just pour onto the page without me even thinking about what’s happening. Except at night. At night, the words go around and around in my head. They drive me crazy. They keep me awake.
Such was the case with the first stanza of this piece — over and over again between 1:00 a.m. and 3:00 a.m. on the night it was born. Portions of the poem were birthed after I re-awoke the following morning. The rest wrote itself over the next twenty-four hours.
I wanted to call the poem “questions.” But when I searched my blog, I found I had already written another poem called “questions” in the spring of 2019.
I don’t have answers to the questions in this latest poem. Perhaps they will be revealed in the fullness of time…
Note: for those who might be concerned by the second-to-last stanza in this poem, please know the use of the word suicide is poetic licence.
who will make it right?
©2020 pookie
who will make it right?
questions arise
in the dead of the night
trying to make sense
of what’s wrong and what’s right
who is to blame
for irreparable harm
done to children, now adults
who wield toxic charm?
are some wounds too deep
to ever be healed?
can sorrow be buried
at the edge of a field?
what might it be like
to live a life that’s a lie
that turns joy into grief,
and makes innocents cry?
what is true love
and who is its holder?
when the fire’s snuffed out
do the embers still smoulder?
can revenge be sweet
or just bitter and sad?
how does one cleave
the good from the bad?
what does one do
with empty “I’m sorry’s?
the words at the core
of a predator’s story?
will forgiveness salve
a torn-apart soul?
or is it remorse
that again makes it whole?
what is consent?
what constitutes rape?
how can a victim
affect her escape?
should truths all be spoken
to protect future others
or locked in dark closets
for the sake of a mother?
how much hurt is too much
for a person to bear?
how much of their burden
should anyone share?
should hearts that are broken
be evermore hidden
or should breaking a heart
be forever forbidden?
will the sun rise tomorrow
on a world that is better
or will it be time
for a suicide letter?
more questions than answers
in the dead of the night:
who knows what is wrong?
who can make the wrongs right?
© 2020 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my poetry and posts widely, but please do not reprint, reblog or copy and paste them in their entirety without my permission. Thank you.
