Poetry and prose have saved my life, literally. This is a poem I wrote about the turmoil that was created every April, the month my mother died. My blogs the last two days explain what happened. Attic Annie
April Tornado
Deep inside way down deep inside
I feel tornado spinning
Wailing whining devil spirit
Tearing me to shreds if I would ever let it
Devil spirit spawned during childhood
All the anger all the anguish held within
Years of days and nights of dried out tear rivers
No longer shed over Mother’s picture
Never talked to me about my mother
Eyes forever told me blamed me
Tornado spirit whirs inside me
April anniversary once again
Every year still since babyhood
Comes to visit to remind me of my sin
That Mother died to let me live
Cancer took her soon after she bore me
Father never once forgave me
Still feel the blame seeping from within the grave
Will forgiveness come when I shall join them?
When will April tornado spinning end?
