The Room is Empty: A Poem
The Inner Voice Screams
Sometimes life’s events just lend themselves to poetry. Many experiences are so beautiful they make your heart cry out with joy. Our spirits are lifted upward by the magnificence we have witnessed, and we hope to share the feeling with others through our words. At other times situations are troubling and necessitate a more indirect expression to be processed and shared. Poetry lends itself to these darker moments, as well. Its cathartic benefits provide an outlet for the inner voice, screaming to be heard.
My inner voice is screaming today, and I wish to share the words that are demanding to be expressed. In their sharing, I offer thanks to someone who has pushed me to put myself out there with my words and images. Your courage emboldens me.
Works by the author at Amazon.com
The Room is Empty: Images
The Room is Empty
Newspapers are scattered across the floor of his living room.
Dishes from a meal he ate without tasting litter his coffee table.
A fan circulates air throughout the room, flipping pages of a nearby magazine with its steady breeze.
The room is empty.
Bottles of aspirin and antacids line the kitchen counter.
The refrigerator is empty except for milk, frozen foods, and ketchup.
The clock on the wall was never set back, even though Daylight Savings Time ended days ago.
The sheets on his bed are twisted and sweaty.
An old-style answering machine blinks three times, alerting him to telephone messages he never listened to.
The television runs, offering four hour blocks of “Roseanne,” “M*A*S*H,” or “The Andy Griffith Show.”
He sits upright in bed, resting one arm upon his knee, staring straight ahead.
His eyes are dry from lack of sleep.
He has not moved for hours, save for the rise and fall of his chest as his lungs fill with air.
A young boy’s room is next to his own, wallpaper adorned with puppies.
The bed is made—the sheets clean, white, and pressed.
A teddy bear rests in the seat of a rocking chair, arms outstretched in tender greeting.
The room is empty.
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