Finally Released From My Hell …
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter
My poor body trying to shelter me from the rain
It sits here with me … inside with my thoughts
The sad thing is … me and this body can feel things
It’s like being in an old house
When the wind blows … the house moves
It creaks … tries to hold itself together
The rain rolls off this body’s head into my eyes
This body’s hands reach up to wipe this face
Tears mix with rain … teardrops turn into raindrops
Homeless … no place to go … I sit here in this worn out body
Me … I’m trapped inside … I want to fly away
Like a ship anchored … this body holds me down
The only way for me to soar
Is for this body to lay down … die
Until then … I am at the mercy of the shell that traps my very soul
I feel pain as another person walks by me sitting here
This body … and me … feeling the pain as a foot shoots out
Kicking me in the chest … kicking a pile of trash aside
This mouth cries out … no one hears … too many busy bodies
Going about their business while lots of me’s ride in different bodies
Older, worn out bodies fall along the side if lucky
If not lucky … a foot from another body kicks it out of the path
Life is cold … dark from where this body sits
All it can do is wait to die … with me trapped inside
Like a fox peeping out from under a log … I, myself … me
Sit inside this body … not wanting to live … have no choice but, to
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad … if it didn’t feel all this pain
Bodies bleed … bodies hurt … they are strong yet … so fragile
They house the strongest, smartest of minds
Only the mind can travel … where the body can’t
My mind … me … travels afar … to where it’s warm, dry
The sad thing is … when I’m finished … I have to come back
I can’t go to another body … but, mine
Sitting here … trapped inside … I have no choice
But … to go where this old body goes
Feel all this old body feels … this is my house, my shelter
It’s been rocked by many storms … I see one coming now
As I feel horrific pain from its blow
Another foot kicks this body … tossing it farther off the path
My body lies there … growing still and cold
Dying … releasing me … releasing me and my soul
I fly away … I don’t look back … I’m released from my Hell
Note by this Author:
Sitting here this morning … I’m the only one up … I am listening to very quiet, soft music … this is the poem that was born from my thoughts. I have no idea ‘why?’ …
Why do writers write? Why do they think the things they do? Why do their words reflect this … reflect that? Why do people want to read no matter how crazy, wonderful, sad? I know why? I do. I want to see what comes out of another mind … inside another body.
Sometimes … like my words at this moment … reading something that’s … off the wall … can make your brain feel as if it’s twisting around to look at things in a … different way. My brain feels like it had a work-out while in the throes of writing this poem. 🙂
I wrote it … it’s out of my mind … my body now … released into the universe to all the bodies that give minds a shelter. Some bodies are wonderful … some are in the most terrible shapes … houses … some are so comfortable … others are pure Hell.
I think back to when my only child died … I couldn’t get away from myself … me. I was trapped … inside myself with tormenting thoughts, the worst pain a person could suffer … the death of their child. Me … I couldn’t get away from … this body.
Thankfully … the day came after years … me, myself and I … and my thoughts can live in the same body … peacefully. As my body grows older … my thoughts are like a calm sea … when they come to the memories of my child.
Photo, poem owned and written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.
Colors of My Life 
I’ve visited several nursing homes over the years (visiting loved ones) and I see pleading eyes of residents who reach out wordlessly from their souls. I thought about them while reading your thoughts. So many of them just want to die and they can’t, so they suffer in bodies that no longer work for them.
I know that well … as a young girl I worked in a nursing home, saw things that shouldn’t have been … I almost had a nervous breakdown … my Heart couldn’t take the things I saw, heard … and I had nightmares … and I couldn’t change a thing. It tore me up so badly.
People can be so cruel and we find we cannot escape their casual cruelty, only suffer and survive.
Dad was cruel and sadistic because he could do whatever he wanted to do to us.
WHATEVER he wanted.
I have grown up and now he threatens to kill me because he can no longer batter me as he did when we were children.
Only when he dies will I know freedom from his cruelty, so believe me, I DO relate to your poem!!! 😦
Love and hugs!
Prenin.
Prenin, life has been so cruel to you. I know you can relate to that. Love, Gloria 🙂