(For Chrissy)
By Sarah Hankel
The young ones are always the most tragic,
The ones who had so far yet to go.
Lives unfulfilled because Death cut them short,
They are the ones we miss the most because they missed so much.
If they only knew how proud their parents were.
If they could only realize what a pleasure life could have been,
Instead of struggling to breathe, fighting to live
Letting blood course through their veins instead of forcing it.
For them, a sterile, white hospital room with tubes
was more of a home than a bedroom filled with toys.
Their bedspread never rumpled, their clothes folded and put away,
Waiting for their return along with parents, sibliings and neighbors.
Childish in body, the ones we miss the most,
Are often wise beyond their years.
Harsh reality seeped through youthful daydreams,
Exploration more cruel than the experience was worth.
Maybe it is all in Fate's hands
To decide when it's time to go.
Maye it's all for the best,
But emotions of those left behind disagree.
Maybe it's guilty selfishness,
Wishful dreaming of times that can never be.
Maybe that's the way it should be
An assurance that we never forget...
the ones we miss the most were once very real.
______________________________
Leave a Light On
By Sarah Hankel
Leave a light on for me
On the door step,
In the living room,
By the night stand.
Just let me know
when I am welcome again.
You have told me
so many secrets,
But do you trust me?
Has it set you free?
Has your heart changed?
When I think of all
my secrets
yet to be revealed,
My body goes numb,
My tongue dry.
My back tingles
Is that your caress,
Or the fear
that I will be left
cold and alone?
______________________________
Fall
By Sarah Hankel
Autumn leaves, torn and worn
line the dirt path.
Once, fine foilage,
Beautiful branch accents,
Now nothing more than mulch,
Brown and blowing in the wind,
Never worthy of compliments,
But destined to be a part
of what is yet to come.
______________________________
Soul Making
By Sarah Hankel
You can not plant a seed
And expect a soul to grow.
It must be shaped and guided
given a frame, a mold.
Whether sun or storms
or hurricanes ablow
All living things follow a path
The path gives it soul.
______________________________
A prayer
By Sarah Hankel
My Peace comes from within
By the Grace of God
Guilt is purely propaganda.
And my prophecy,
written long ago,
Refuses to recognize
Such evil grief
Arranged by others
Much weaker than He.
______________________________
The Suburban Housewife
By Sarah Hankel
I am not the object of your affections.
I am the subject of your affectations.
To you, I am not a woman; I am your wife.
Patiently I wait, night after night
For you to discover what I already know.
I am the household whore at 105 Shore Drive.
______________________________
The Hard Way
By Sarah Hankel
Why do I do things the hard way?
Why is it always easier said than done?
The truth will always be out there.
If I find it, what will be won?
Whoever said Life
will be what it will be?
I'd like to think I'm in control
Make it one my own independently.
Momma said there'd be days like these,
But can't they come one at a time?
Instead of weeks and weeks of torture
interrupted by headaches and heartaches.
Oh, what did I do to deserve
A life too simple to sweat
One corrupted by idiots,
Alcohol, overwork and too much debt?
Why's it always got to be the hard way?
What good out of it could come?
Maybe if I just took a nap
It'll all be undone.
______________________________
Wishful Fish
By Sarah Hankel
Often busying her hands at home
Hoping her heart won't notice
She's treading water
Alone.
Wishing for her fish from the sea
To flop upon land
And arrive at her door
A prince.
Check marking the silly notion
She tosses it back into the ocean
Hoping it will mature and become
The catch of the day.
______________________________
Fall
By Sarah Hankel
Autumn leaves, torn and worn
line the dirt path.
Once, fine foilage,
Beautiful branch accents,
Now nothing more than mulch,
Brown and blowing in the wind,
Never worthy of compliments,
But destined to be a part
of what is yet to come.
______________________________
MORE POETRY TO COME
