Never too Far
A descent into despair met by a whispered prayer and revival
A poem for the self proclaimed “too far gone”
Contains raw depictions of opioid use, miscarriage, and spiritual trauma.
But also… hope.
And healing.
Slumped down In darkened alley,
She-emaciated hunger made material.
Spent needles lay dankly discarded.
Legs splayed, the actor’s role forgotten.
Poison’s euphoric effects, scattered, dignity discarded.
Ecstasy, elation-hiding quiet, buried devastation.
Spreading through vein like comforts old embrace.
An unborn, miscarried child’s face once more remembered.
A neutralization of neurological cravings,
The forsaken followed depressions hollowing,
Carved in memory.
Hope sundered so fully, it adorns spiritual death.
Novocain for life’s brutality.
Sheol’s slavering maw encroached.
Life’s breath fleeting now.
Careful dosed fentanyl,
Produces somnolence.
Heavy-lidded, leaden eyes close.
In last moments approaching choir-she prays.
A flare in the dark:
“Forgive me, Father, for I know not what I do.”
Warmth surrounds,
Wombed- over embraced.
The Son’s life and blood respond.
The Fathers waiting Will,
Enacted before whispered prayer, or world’s foundation-formed.
Sounds muffled and faint. Blurred sight. Flashing lights.
“CLEAR!” -Paddled paramedics proceed, reviving.
In corner eye, half seen, Angeled figure fleetingly seen, smiles.
© Eiri Waters. All rights reserved.
This piece is part of Eiri’s ongoing prophetic and poetic works.
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