Two Short Poems by Morgan Menzie

If I could be where I wished
Whenever that wish occurred to me
I'd rarely ever be seen
For if I could, I'd set myself free
Free to disappear and just watch
As the actors step on stage
And with every glance a turn of the page
In the book of my life
Which I'd write for myself
To write a wish
A wish to go unseen
For that would set me free

* * *

Life hangs suspended in the air
Smoldering and whipping in the wind
Ashes fall like snowflakes
To cover the ground with the purity of shame
Plains of gray leave us breathless
For to inhale would be to relive...
No one wants that...
So life smolders on.


NOTE: I took these poems from Diary of an Anorexic Girl by Morgan Menzie, a book I read recently about a teenage girl who, as aforementioned, suffers from anorexia. Although I cannot relate to her life, I can relate to her personality, for I have never read a fictional character that has a personality that shows such similarity to mine as Blythe Beaumont. And when I read the poetry that Blythe included in her diary, I knew she and I were the same. If you have read my blog before, you will know that I, too, write poetry in a similar style to Morgan(Blythe)'s; poetry which I write for myself, so when you read it, unless you know me well enough, you won't understand it.

Little League

I love that I cannot forget

I love how I remember

I love how in each and every day the memory grows clearer

I love that I can say I knew you

I love that I can say I cared

But most of all I love how that weekend seemed to stretch on forever

I'm sorry I couldn't stop laughing

I'm sorry I laughed at you

I'm sorry I broke the lamp

I'm sorry I broke the duck egg

I'm sorry that the first time I met you I almost broke your nose

But I'm really, really sorry that I taped over you singing The Wizard of Oz

I hate that you lived so far away

I hate that you never came to visit me

I hate that we always said we'd keep in touch, but never did

I hate that I didn't go to your funeral

I hate that there had to be one

But more than anything, I hate that two thousand people were there who will never know you as well as I do.

I wish I could turn back time to that weekend

I wish I could listen to you singing We're Off to See the Wizard one last time

I wish everyone knew how great you were

But more than anything I wish that I had told you all this two years and five months ago

And that you would understand.

POET'S NOTE: I wrote this poem in memory of Alex, Sam and Judy Weinstein, who are the wife and sons of my father's first cousin, Gary. I chose to post this on this particular day because on this day, three years ago, these three people were killed in a car accident. They were on their way to a dentist appointment close to where they live in Detroit, Michigan, when an SUV - much larger and more powerful than Judy's car - smashed into them from behind. The driver of the SUV was drunk enough to be passed out, at a blood/alcohol level of 0.45, nearly 50% (the legal limit being 0.08). Alex, who was 12 at the time, and Judy, at 49, were killed instantly, whereas Sam, who was only 9, was expelled from the car and found by a pedestrian 20 feet away and taken to hospital in an ambulance, where he was declared dead. It sounds rather formal and "newspaper-y" writing it like this, but I feel that they ought to be remembered on the anniversary of their death. Two thousand people attended their funeral.

I miss them every day.