Growing Up Me

The pen is mightier than the sword was reconfirmed to me a few months ago. I had been dealing with some frustration with my husband’s drinking and partying since he came home from Iraq. I know he is dealing with things I can not comprehend; but you can not drown them at the bar. Even when you’re hugging the toilet bowl puking up half the liquor store, they will still rear their ugly head. Putting pen to paper as I often do to release my frustrations, I wrote for a while and eventually ended with the following poem.

Forgotten

Who are we but your family?

Always in the background we stand

As days go by, we wait and wait

For the gentleness that once came from your hand

Now are we just a memory

As you are too busy being the band

Nothing will pause your gait

There’s an itch for the pool stick in your hand

How boring is this family?

Who can’t compare with a beer in your hand

Today is now yesterday and it’s too late

To make the call across this great land

Oh how we’re forgotten so easily

Wow we must be bland

For we don’t even spark any hate

Just get brushed off like specks of sand

To my shock and amazement my husband actually read my poem. I think it hit home more than any of my begging, pleading, and crying had. His depression, grief and need for lack of responsibility won out in the end but it actually seemed to improve things for a little while. Just for that little bit, the pen was mightier than the sword.