Memorial Tapestries

“I never wanted kids,” Says the father of two,
And I sink to my knees knowing its true.
“It was your fault, you guys drove him to me,”
Says the woman who tortured my family.
“Forgiveness for past transgressions?” Asks my love that left,
Drowning me in silence with a heart bereft.

These are the voices that haunt my dreams,
The dreams that wake me with a throat full of screams.
Only their not just dreams, their memories,
Hanging heavy, dark gray tapestries,
Over my window, blocking the sun,
Leaving me no light by which to run.

So I'm trapped now, within the dark
Wandering and waiting for some light to give spark.
I attempt to un-shadow the window,
But the voices erupted into a crescendo.
Driving me back down to my knees,
Where I cover my ears and begin to plead.

“Please,”I beg, “just let me awake,
From this horrible nightmare, for my brittle heart's sake.”
The voices dim down to my cry full of pain,
And I find my dream-self drenched in cold rain.
Oh, how I wish this darkness would flee
But in order for that I need to see.

I blink my eye as I look up through my tears,
Where they mix with the rain and blur with my fears.
I hold to the promise – the sun will come out,
My alarm will wake me with a blessed shout.
One day I will discover how to remove these tapestries,
And finally let go of these haunting memories.