My Mothers Eyes

I often think of mothers eyes, looking down on me from heaven;
The eyes that closed, when she took her life—when I was only seven.

I guess she had some pain and debt, and she fought a lot with dad;
But the day she took away her life, she took all that I had.

Then dad went too, but he never left, just drank away his pain;
His troubled soul searched and searched, for what couldn’t be regained;

My friends all told me, "you’re so lucky, no mom, no discipline;"
And I could play all day and night, no schedule to go in.

They never saw the emptiness; the hole right through my heart;
Just like the one that took moms life, on mine, it did its part;

But I went on to live and breathe; I did not die that day;
I went on to think and question, "why did she go away?"

I was too young to see or help, her pained and suffering soul;
But I’d have tried and gave my all, to change her fatal goal.

She never saw me catch a fly, in the baseball games I played;
She never saw my poems or art, or all the things I made.

She never saw me graduate, and wear my cap and gown;
When I married, had kids, divorced, she never was around.

Mom would be about one-hundred, if she were here today;
Cute, wrinkled, petit and slow, her thin hair silver gray.

And we’d take turns to care for her, to pay back all she gave;
But no, she’s not with us now, she is quiet in her grave.

Indeed it’s sad to write these lines, and it pains me deep inside;
But I want the world to know real well, that many that day, died.

A lot of dreams and hopes and plans, left the earth that day;
When a mother, to sick to ask for help, simply went away.

It seems she could not let it out, the pain inside her soul;
She could not see out far enough, to grasp a worthy goal.

And no one saw it in her eyes—no one could really see;
To let her know how great she is, how much she really means.

None stepped up to share her strife, to ease her heavy load;
The only path she saw was death, on her dark and lonely road.

For this I shout out to the world, "let’s read each others hearts!"
Let’s say "how are you?" and mean it well—that would be a start.

And to those who feel it is hopeless now, and there’s only one way out;
Please find a doctor, friend or priest, and if you need to shout—

Let them know that you need their help, if only just to hear—
Let them understand your plea, and that tragedy is near.

It’s okay to just start over folks, to begin again at life;
It’s not okay to quit too soon, falling victim to your strife.

To leave this life too early, you’ll not just go alone;
And you’ll crush the spirits of those you love, and turn them out to rome.

To search in vain and wonder, what else they may have done;
To help you change your mind and stay, to work out what may come.

Many times my life’s been dark—scary and depressed;
But the thought of loosing someone dear, gets me up and dressed.

And like a flashlight in the dark, I may not see real far;
But when I lift my head and eyes, I do see lovely stars.

There are many—they cast their light, they’re up there all the time;
And seeing them so still and bright, I know why each one shines.

They’ve been up there forever; each one has its own space;
And nothing makes them go away; they each have their own place.

Of course, unless one chooses death, and burns out on its own;
And then there’s just a small dark place, in heavens lovely home.

But you see, this never happens, and they always give us light;
They tell us all, "don’t give up; it’s going to be alright!"

And I often think of my mothers eyes, like stars gazing down from heaven;
I miss those blue-blue eyes she closed, when I was only seven.

In memory of Helen Margret Earl, the beautiful mother, I never knew. Sept. 29th, 1955
Dedicated to the next sweet soul considering suicide, please stay.

Copyright 2006 www.theantgod.com