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Best Poems From
AMANDA SAVELEY
(December 29,1987)
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85.
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The Day of My First Death
I was nine years old
Dining room wood table,
Polished gleam against the open window
Lace curtain covers
White like my innocence
White lace burial shroud
I was nine years old
Small ivory hand placed in a large hand,
Worn with the troubles of the world
My mother looked at me with tears
Crystal clear in her almond eyes
I did not understand
But her face held the key to mysteries long since gone
Long since passed
Mysteries I would soon unravel for my own
To carry as a burden
Chip on the shoulder
A chip that never should have been
Words said delicately, with care
Fragile words like broken glass
Cutting and scraping at a tiny shielded heart
Cousin, mentor, idol
Carried burden of unraveled mystery
Too heavy to carry
Sought to unload the heavy hold
Failed,
And brought more upon herself
I could not understand
She loved me so, beloved cousin of mine
She had to
We were close, she and I
She, my protector
I, her keeper of adoration eternal
And nothing could separate us
Not even the five years that placed a gap in our age
Except the secret of the unraveled mystery
Long since forgotten
Carried on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-young girl
My cousin
Tiny capsules deliverance of dark mortality
Forced from tiny life
The facts were clear to me
Still,
I did not understand
Could not understand
Love could conquer all, I was told
Belief firmly lodged in mind,
Wrenched from safety and flung into obscurity
Truth blinding like harsh rays of sun
Burning pale skin
Turning dark
Inside out
I died that day in the dining room
With the polished wood table
And white lace curtains
And my mother's almond eyes
And crystal tears
And fragile sharp words
I was nine years old
Amanda Saveley
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86.
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The Definition of Fear
I'm afraid.
I'm afraid that each time I let you go will be the last.
I'm afraid that you'll never come back,
Whether of your own will or fate...
I'm afraid that you will not be allowed to return to me.
That you will stay forever out of my reach,
In the abyss...
If Heaven is where you are meant to go...
I'm afraid I cannot follow.
I'm afraid I will forever lose you.
I'm afraid you'll find someone else.
I'm less than you deserve.
I'm afraid that life will eventually take you from me.
For I know this to be true.
I'm afraid of hello.
I'm afraid of goodbye.
I'm afraid of your absence.
This is why I cry.
Amanda Saveley
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87.
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The Expense it Takes to Retrieve That Which Was Lost
I can't let go.
Of anything, really.
Pain, hate, anger...
It's all integrated in my skin
Become part of who I am
A section of my brain
Sealed off for just those things
I will always scream inside my mind
Silent piercing constantly rocking my soul in the darkness
I will always loathe to the point of obsession
Hatred will always consume my life,
Slowly ebbing away at the person I used to be
To mutate me into that which I have become
The thing fueled only by the anger that rages on
Becoming the only thing that keeps me in motion
I will avenge your loss someday
I will defeat those who have opposed me
Separated me from what was once my happy life
Oh happy life...
Beloved existance...
I will retrieve you again
But at what cost?
Amanda Saveley
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88.
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The Fall from Grace is Like a Skinned Knee, but Painful All the Same
***For my dear friend Agnes, who has reignited my desire to spread my voice to the outer distance...because the earth has no corners.***
Winter, you're gunning for me
With each passing hour
I feel your frosted breath at my back
Making my limbs stiffen
Though I've gained wisdom to make words deep
My voice is strained, it cracks
And breaks the message I knew not in youth,
When I was drunk on ignorance
And blurred with lies
Winter, you have pushed the 'sharpen' button on my life's photo editor.
You've made all too clear,
Making sure not to photoshop the truthful lines
That have already begun to crease my brow
With each passing second,
Technology increases,
And I'm finding new ways to die.
So click that 'delete' button,
And freeze the 'restore' option in my recycle bin.
Right click, drag, and dropp me out
Come to me in old school style,
Reaper in black, scythe drawn,
With skeletal fingers, grasp my withered hand
And lead me to the unknown
I will not fight you.
Winter, my Winter...
Come close my eyes
And place a penny on my lips
For money's the language I've been forced to learn
In this technologically-advanced social stratus
We're trying to learn how to fight you,
But you're the one thing that can't be beat.
You're the fight that I will lose...
So come, come for me.
I will be waiting,
Like a leaf poised at the end of a feeble twig,
Waiting for wind,
Ready for Winter,
Poised to fall.
Amanda Saveley
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