Beauty is the Least

The old woman’s eyes widen in excitement when her family enters.
The room is of a dull white color, a sheet divides it in two.

The feeble woman casts a quick smile and then reels it back in.
She is embarrassed of her missing dentures and her grey hair.

She pulls her blanket closer, to hide her ailing body.
She runs her fingers slowly through her thin grey hair.

After adjusting herself, she looks up at her family.
She begins to speak of small things; never of herself.

Now, the little energy she had, extinguished – she only listens.
She occasionally laughs softly as she battles sleep.

Her family attempts nothing fantastic or unordinary,
They only wish to be there with her as much as they can.

The nurse comes to attach the sleeping woman to a few machines.
She leaves quickly, jotting notes and numbers onto a tablet.

The old woman breaths laboriously; sleep has beaten her.
Her family silently leaves the room after kissing her forehead.

When the old woman wakes it takes her a minute to stop dreaming,
She remembers the tubes that are invading her body.

She longs again for her family,
For her husband who cannot visit.

She longs for her health,
Her memories and her mind.

Of all things she longs for in her age,
Beauty is longed for the least.

The Search

Sincerity is essential,
Honesty a must,
Of course no greater credential-
Then the ability to trust.

A smile that is stunning,
Eyes of warmth and joy,
A mind that can be cunning,
And a body with which to toy.

Dreams filled with aspiration,
The perseverance to prevail,
Ideals that can resist temptation,
The humility to fail.

Laughter in the voice,
Shimmer in the hair,
Reasoning for choice,
Yes, it should all be there.

Not a perfect woman to caress,
Mind you, not a Barbie-doll,
More of a lioness,
That’ll fight before she’ll fall.

A companion with whom to learn,
A woman with whom to love,
A partner who does yearn,
To be all that is above.

Not a sculpture of my mind,
Or a painting of my dream-
No, what I hope to find-
It is not quite so serene.

She takes a shapely form,
She is pleasing to my eye,
But she can’t conform,
And must question “why.”

She is a universal beauty,
Through her body, mind, and soul,
And it is my duty-
To find her – – and never let her go.

The Created Nothing

The void that lies within my soul;
The void that I cannot subject to control;
The void I steadily fill with lies;
The void is not leaving, surprise, surprise.

The emptiness I’ve mistaken for my own self-despair,
The feeling of empty – I denied it was there.
So my void grew, with time it thrived,
Suffocating all other emotions that would fight to stay alive.

My love was lost in empty, my sadness in farewell-
And all the time I wished to die, to escape my living hell.
I played the game smoothly, even wore a smile,
As the void I thought would leave grew all the while.

Alcohol became my escape, marijuana my fun,
I let the void grow, but steadily I’d run.
I woke one day – shortly before my last-
And took time to remember my empty past.

What I found filled my with fear,
Because suddenly I realized…I needed the void here.
I so strived for something to blame for my mistakes-
That I filled myself with lies and voids that were fakes.

I blamed my actions on something imaginary inside,
On a dispensable, convenient “thing” I could easily hide.
And it hurt, and I cried, and I thought and I thunk,
In the end I decided to go and get drunk.

It hit me there, it hit me then, the void would always win-
Because, for my drunkenness, I blamed the void again.
And some days later, when cancer of my liver was found,
I searched for friends, but found only emptiness around.

In the end, what I had created and blamed all my life,
Would, ironically, destroy me and relieve my strife.
As my eyes closed and I was filled with fear,
I just relaxed…because, finally, my void, my black…my FRIEND, was here.