Bach tries valiantly but cannot melt away
The despair of the season.
I need the beautiful structures to
Eradicate the guilt from failure.
I need the perfect harmony
To give me peace and love and joy.
But Bach fails horribly and I cry.
“I’m no good,” comes up from hidden basements.
Mother judged and hated my
complete lack of thoughtfulness.
I could not be her son.
She with hundreds of feet of
Live greenery plastered with the
Finest ornaments. Millions of ornaments.
Some joy together as we decorated, but
She always hated the tree we picked.
Her face showed us how we ruined her life.
We never found the right tree for Mother.
She said I made her cancer worse
Because I was so thoughtless.
My wishes were strong and potent, but
I could not eradicate the cancer, and I
Continued to fail. The decorations were
Beautiful, but I ruined her Christmas.
She loved Christmas and she hated me.
It was not one Christmas; it was thousands.
You give me thousands more, and I
Will never be good enough.
I make cancer worse, and
I am cancer to Christmas.
stillfugue 
#1 by fillingahole on December 21, 2010 - 6:39 pm
no sir.
not at all…
good poem.
#2 by Carl on December 22, 2010 - 1:09 am
It has been a long battle to get over this, and I’m not done, but I think I’m getting better. It’s hard to be this open on it especially when it is contrary to everything that is right. I appreciate your comment.