No Luck at All

 (Picture found on Google Images)

At 17 we dated,

then we did not.

Why, when I had never loved like that?

We dated for a day at 24 or 25,

a day I did not want.

Sometimes I would get a rare visit

or call,

once a letter,

but I rebuffed again and again.

Then I married

a man from church

a man who was too attentive 
had sparkling eyes.

Ignoring what I knew in my heart and mind
until I needed something
help

I went to the counselor at church

in fear

I cannot remember what I told her.

She said she could not help

I needed someone with more education

more knowledge

a therapist,

now!

Puzzled, I put that suggestion away.

He would never allow that.

More years drag me along

I was frantic

fear relentless

panic all around.

I found the therapist

and went.

She talked with me

the children

and interviewed him.

Puzzling because it was

not the kind of thing he would do

in his eyes there was 
never anything wrong

with him.

Always someone else's fault

at work

at church

the kids

but most often mine.

She talked with him for an hour

a full hour

then spoke with me the next week.

He was a sick man she said,

one who would never be well.

Diagnosis sociopath.

There was no hope for him

and frighteningly,

for me.

We could divorce

but I would never be free

she said

unless he found someone else

to victimize

or died.

What kind of luck was this?

I refused the only man I'd loved

married a man I thought was ok
because I met him at church

now trapped

till death do us part.

Trying planning

to get away

but never could work it out.

He watched so thoroughly

it was creepy and

I knew leaving was not safe

The man I loved at 17 found me.

Funny,

I had been searching for him, too,

finally admitting to myself

the love had never died

ever

He was married.

Another blow to the head and heart.

Luck? There is no such thing.

Death finally came

finding that man I'd married

lived under

been so afraid of

for more than 20 years

seated on the couch,

an empty shell.

I could not stop staring at the

gray skin

unseeing eyes

fearing he would sit up

and say

it was all a joke.

I stared through the police and paramedics

questions

wanting medicine bottles

calling the morgue for me.

They were so kind

but did not understand.

Thinking I was in shock

they kept suggesting I go out of the room

until they were finished.

I went into the living room

where the kids were wondering what happens next

all of us finding it hard to believe

it was over.

Did my luck finally change?

No, I decided.

Luck is a myth.

My mistakes and decisions

inability to act on my own behalf,

a remnant of controlled childhood,

were the things responsible for the way

my life was.

No luck, nothing lucky.

It just was what it was.

Now, I was equipped by life

to make strong decisions.

Still fearful,

anxious,

yes, terribly afraid,

learning to be free of his grip.

I am going forward

slowly.

Christmas Gift (PAD Prompt)

I'd taken a nap in late afternoon

to escape

because you'd come in to cook your Christmas dinner.

I slept a few hours

deep dreamless sleep

When I woke I could smell chicken

cooked to long.

Not wanting to, I got out of bed

turned off the oven, looked at the clock.

Seven.

You must have fallen asleep, so dinner was put away

for whenever you would wake.

There was evening,

and there was morning,

the last day.

Morning, I got up and looked in the kitchen

You'd not been in.

You must not be feeling well. I sighed.

I'd better go out and check if you need anything.

Put on shoes, go out the back door, walk through

the beautiful snow to your apartment.

Amazing snow, so heavy, peaceful, it felt good.

I saw him sitting on the couch

diet coke in hand, remote on his lap,

absent eyes staring at nothing.

Back through the fresh snow

walking in my own footprints

up the back steps

into the house.

Kids 20 and 21 looking at me.

Dad's dead.

Called 911.

Called one son staying over in the next city.

His reply,

"Well, it's over."

Yes, it's over for us

and beginning for us.

What do we do with this new life handed us

this new beginning

this life without terror?

Looking through the phone book,

I chose a funeral home.

There was evening

and there was morning,

the first day.

Season of Healing (PAD Prompt)

I have come

to a place where

my threat no longer lives.

He is gone.

Forever gone,

ashes buried in the earth.

Still I find

I feel fear

threat

anxiety

washing over me

threatening to drown

waves surfers wait for

as challenge of their ability.

Depression so dark

it is impossible to see anything

in front of me

and I struggle between

living with it

accepting what he is still

doing to me

even in death

or looking up

toward the peak

seeking hand and toe holds

no matter how small

to grip on

my way back.

I decide to look up

even in the midst of a moonless night

and I reach

feeling for that small but strong

ledge to grab onto

and a toe hold

where I can dig my toes in

and push pull my way up

out of his death grip

moving slowly

with a goal in sight:

the peak of the mountain.

It is an almost impossible climb

from hell's depths

to this season of healing.

I will make it.