GraceA Poem by Lucas GrashaIf
you look over there, no, over there, by
the side of the road, where no one cares, that’s
the place I lived, where I used to dream. Dirt
is more comfortable than what it may seem. In
the winter months, I would make a hut from
wood and bones and ice and mud. Sometimes,
people would be there with me; we’d
comfort each other to not feel lonely. I
remember there was one woman, she was so kind, it
was like she was an angel sent down from the sky. I
called her, ‘Grace’ because that name suited her. Her
voice was a sweet melody with every word. But
there was a day that Grace wasn’t there, she’d
left a note with a lock of her hair. I
picked up the note to read it out loud, at
a time when the forest made not a sound. It
read, “Dear little man, you know that I’ve gone. I
have not done so for anything you did wrong. I
simply had to go, it was past my time. You
see, I was so sick; I just was meant to die. I
had leukemia, I couldn’t pay for treatment. My
parents treated me like I were a bohemian. I
didn’t want you to have to see me go, but
either way, there will be this pain you’ll know. But
please don’t care that I had to leave, and
please don’t you ever forget me.” I
closed the note, and started to cry, I
would’ve held her close when she would die. Would
there have been a lesson from this? Did
it teach me to try and savor bliss? I
think not, because I still live in the place where
there’s a note written by a woman named Grace. © 2011 Lucas GrashaReviews
|
Stats
642 Views
15 Reviews Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on February 22, 2011Last Updated on February 24, 2011 AuthorLucas GrashaPittsburgh, PAAboutI've chosen in life to use the pen in place of the sword; or rather, the giving in place of giving up. I believe that I do possess a talent, but that opinion is only mine; if you would please (if you .. more.. |

Flag Writing