Poems About Love After Lockup

   In this place, all is right
Nothing but love, and we never fight

In this place, there is no sadness
No cells, no courts, none of that madness

No rules to follow, no laws to break
No bars to hold us or separate

No one to tell us we can’t kiss or touch
I don’t just tell you “I love you” – I show you how much

But eventually the game must end
My eyes must open, and reality sets in

But someday soon – I’m not sure when
I will close my eyes and play my game again     

    I feel a tear run down my face
As I sit in this quiet, lonely place.
I think of you and need you here.
I wipe away my falling tear.
I hit the floor on bended knee.
I ask, I beg, I start to plead.
Please bring him home.
God, no longer do I want to be alone.
Is there an Angel you could send to us
And give us a miracle? In God I trust.
He’s done enough time; he needs to be free.
Please God, bring him home to me.
We believe in love; I believe in you.
Please God, is there something you could do?
I’ll make it up to you, God, you know I will.
I’ll be good and honest, grateful and true.
So please send us an Angel, is all I ask of you
I’ll say this prayer each and every day
Until he is in my arms and home to stay.     

  All these days and nights without you here,
It’s a little bit more than I can bear.

The days are cold and so very long.
I don’t know how much longer I can be strong.

My nights are so lonely and sad.
Sometimes I can’t help but get mad.

I see your face everywhere I look.
It breaks my heart that my great love is what they took.

Without you here it feels like the end.
I’m lost without you ’cause you were also my best friend.

I’ll be counting the days and nights till we’re together again.
Until then, it’s all my love that I send!     

    During my childhood I was badly abused
and as I grew older, I became the accused.

The beating I took came straight from dad,
who used every obstacle to beat me so bad.

That tears that I’ve shed were because of fear,
that kick that I took it deafened my ear.

Doing hard labor at the age of nine
keeping the torment in back of my mind.

Eventually I became this child of steel
hard as a rock, with no tender feel.

I became immune to the blows to my head
as the tips of my welts that slightly bled.   

    The pain, it faded and my mind grew weak,
but as my body grew stronger, I became this freak.

He said he’ll teach me from wrong to right,
but my rage grew stronger, so I stood to his fight.

He kicked down my door, I stood to my feet
he sensed the difference as our eyes finally meet.

I held no fear by the stare of my eyes
I was no longer afraid, but wanted him to die.

Speechless we stood as my fist starts to flinch
while he drew closer, I never flinched.

His first blow landed forcefully on my eye
I shook it off and said, “It’s your turn to cry”.     

We fought like caged animals, He fell hard on the floor
I spat in his face and said, “NO MORE!”.

After that night no two words were said,
walking to the beach with conflicting thoughts in my head.

Like: What did I do?, but yet felt as ease
I was happy to see him begging me please.

Was it the right thing for me to attack?
For the beatings to stop so he won’t hit me back?

It must be the way for him to leave me alone.
I saw the fear in his eyes that had once been my own.

As I grew older it lingered in my mind
the memories I harbored never stayed behind.     

  My brother was always my best friend,
We would play sports and we’d just pretend.
I’d hit a homer, a goal he’d score,
You see I was Yaz and he was Orr.

As we grew up in The Project Courts,
Nothing mattered except for sports.
We never once thought about a girl,
As we lived in our fantasy world.

For in the courtyard in which we’d play,
The next Bobby Orr would proudly say.
“Ronnie, someday when I’m all grown up,
I’ll help The B’s win The Stanley Cup.     

      Score the winning goal in the last game,
And all of Boston will chant my name.
But till that day comes I guess once more,
You can be Yaz and I will be Orr.”

Butchie and I played hockey for fun,
And we weren’t out to hurt anyone.
But then came drugs, fast money and girls,
And playing sports wasn’t in this world.

Because as the years went flying by,
Butchie’s goal was to be a Wise Guy.
With the new meaning of the word “score”,
They’d be no more Yaz and no more Orr.   

    I saw Butchie in the project court,
Where we had played every single sport.
His eyes were bugged and his vision blurred,
And when he spoke his speech was slurred.

His face was pale, his expression blank,
He told me he was robbing a bank.
I said, “Butchie, what about poor Ma?
Her heart can’t take another scar”.

But the madness in my brother’s eyes,
Brought out the sadness in my cries.
For there was hatred not seen before,
Back when I was Yaz and he was Orr.     

    And on the day he was sent to jail,
I had a vision that seemed so real.
I pictured him on a breakaway,
I saw him wink and I heard him say.

“Ronnie, someday when I’m all grown up,
I’ll help The B’s win The Stanley Cup.
Score the winning goal in the last game,
And all of Boston will chant my name”.

As fate would have it, it was his name,
That truly was Butchie’s claim to fame.
But in my heart I just wish once more,
I could be Yaz and he could be Orr.     

    “That’s her there! Her hubby’s inside!”
“How can she stand by him?” a neighbor cried!
“I’d throw away the lock and key!”‘
“That husband of hers should never be free!”

“That woman can do so much better than him!”
“I’d throw all his letters away in the bin!”
“Just what can he offer now that he’s locked away?”
“A complete waste of space!” she shouted that day.

“That’s the one there! Her boyfriend’s inside!”
“He’s scum of the earth!” a neighbor implied!
“If I were her, well I’d meet someone else!
“Not wasting my life to be left on the shelf!”

“That woman’s been left to cope with the shame.”
“It was all over the papers! And gave out his name.”
“He’s useless! A criminal! Bring back the rope!”
“He’ll do it again! For him there’s no hope!”     

      How do you sit down and talk to your son
and tell him that his Daddy has gone?
It’s easier explaining the meaning of death
and why people die and draw their last breath.

But Daddy, he’s gone to no peaceful heaven.
Instead he’s in prison and serving a seven,
so how do you sit down and tell your own son
the whys and the reasons his Daddy has gone?

“Listen, my son, you’ll need to be strong.
Daddy has done something terribly wrong.
He’s gone into prison for quite a long time,
and this is what happens when you commit crime.”   

    “Daddy still loves us, he’ll phone and he’ll write,
ring you to wish you goodnight and sleep tight.
We can sit down together and write him a letter.
It’ll make Daddy smile and make him feel better.”

“We can go and see Daddy, perhaps once a week,
to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
You can draw Daddy pictures and paintings at school
to put on his wall, which will look really cool.”

I tried telling my son with emotional tact
the truth of the matter, but you can’t hide the fact.
His Daddy has gone and has gone for a while.
You can’t say it with flowers or manage a smile.     

      There you are
On the other side of the window
You look sad and scared
Wondering where your son is about to go

You tell me you miss me
And that you want me home
Then you smile
And tell me how much my little brother has grown

We catch up on lost times
As fast as we can
Because we both know
We’ll probably never see each other again 

  You start crying
And I can see
That deep inside you’re dying
You’re blaming yourself
For not being the best mom
And I tell you
It was my choice to do wrong

It hurts me to see you blaming yourself
Because I know that deep inside
You wish you could help
Because you already have one son gone
And you’re about to lose another one

The only thing you want right now
Are your two oldest children
Back with their little brother
And home with their loving mother     

  It’s about time for you to go
We sit in silence
Wishing that we were on the same side of the window
That we could hug for one last time
Before I get sent away for my crime

You put your hand to the glass
And I start crying
I’ve hurt so many people and this is the last
Because it’s not worth watching my whole life go
Behind the window       

    Death asked me to join him for dinner
so I slipped into my favorite black dress
that I had been saving for a special occasion
and let him walk me to our candlelit tryst.
He ordered a ribeye, extra rare
I ordered two desserts and red wine
and then I sipped
and wondered
why he looked so familiar
and smelled like earth and memory.    

    He felt like a place both faraway
and deep within my body
A place that whispers to me
on the crisp autumn breeze
along the liminal edges of dusk and dawn
somewhere between dancing
and stillness.
He looked at me
with the endless night sky in his eyes
and asked
‘Did you live your life, my love?’
As I swirled my wine in its glass   

      I wondered If I understood the thread I wove into the greater fabric
If I loved in a way that was deep and freeing
If I let pain and grief carve me into something more grateful
If I made enough space to be in awe that flowers exist
and take the time to watch the honeybees
drink their sweet nectar
I wondered what the riddles of regret and longing
had taught me
and if I realized just how
beautiful and insignificant and monstrous and small we are
for the brief moment that we are here
before we all melt back down
into ancestors of the land.  

    Death watched me lick buttercream from my fingers
As he leaned in close and said
‘My darling, it’s time.’
So I slipped my hand into his
as he slowly walked me home.
I took a deep breath as he leaned in close
for the long kiss goodnight
and I felt a soft laugh leave my lips
as his mouth met mine
because I never could resist a man
with the lust for my soul in his eyes
and a kiss that makes my heart stop.