Event Horizon

Definition:

Event Horizon: The boundary at the edge of a black hole from which nothing, not even light escapes, and the space time continuum becomes warped. The Event Horizon marks the point of no return where all matter is absorbed.

Event Horizon

In an attempt to sanitize hell;

Contain it by naming this murder of my soul,

I've put pen to paper many times.

Obsessed with recounting the

narrative of the of the moment I found you.

In my attempt to process carnage,

I've tried to mark the instant of the peripheral sighting,

and the turn full face towards inconceivable horror.

But I have been mute,

because there are no words.

Just images seared on ravaged, swollen memory,

blinding seconds in which there is no air.

Just the silence of you hanging there.

At first, I imagined you standing.

Then it became clear.

The blue wind breaker you wore,

long arms limp at your sides;

Head bowed as if in prayer.

Serious, Serene.

Tips of sneakers nearly touching ground,

and the beauty of your lashes, black and

thick against caramel cheeks.

You look peacful.

As if there was no struggle, no remorse,

just a decision.

I feel the rounding of my mouth into scream.

But there is no air, so there isn't any sound.

Nor is there any recollection of how I spanned the

25 feet to end up beside you,

trying to lift you to awareness,

shake your eyes open.

The stiff unnatural coldness made it final.

An icy tremor shoots through me,

jolts me into knowing

you will not be roused.

I gain my footing

and run in circles, buoyant, on air.

And then it came.

A cry, guttural, medieval,

involuntarily hurled like vomit.

Nooooooo .......

I return to hoist you once more,

relieve the orange cord's precise, tight knot

around your neck. But I fail you this last time.

I am ghostly, a specter, and materialize in the front yard.

The neighbors run towards me, faces contorted and red.

Then there are sirens.

Your father standing crushed and defeated in the distance.

I find the pills inside, whatever they are.

Swallow a palm full to slow me down,

but it doesn't work and I am running again.

I bend to beat the image from my head on the trunk of the car;

Try to split it out through my forehead,

but it doesn't work.

The policeman follows me to the edge of the yard,

the edge of the world,

and I am running. He lets me go.

But when I try to drive he handcuffs me;

Hands behind my back.

Captured,

a wounded animal.

I try again to beat the image from my skull,

transmute reality,

ascend into ether.

But there is no escape

until the temporary blackness of drugged,

merciful sleep.

In an attempt to exercise demons;

Release seared trauma into thin air,

I have sought to order a clear, coherent record

of these moments.

But I have been mute .... have failed in this,

because there are no words.

Forever,

Your Mother

11/17/09