The Call

A voice miles away, years away, yet there…then;

A decade draws near since we had previously conversed,

But now the silence; gone,

The void over;

Somehow the awkwardness of two voices seems further,

More distorted, absent of all that such a reunion should be.

The sound of a grandmother:

Though she is not of my blood,

Nor has she ever expressed characteristics of a mother,

And nothing in her life is as grand as her own folly;

She speaks for my grandfather,

Though he is of my blood, my heritage,

He has yet to be a father and,

Has lost his son in a literal sense,

And now his grandson,

Though he has been the one to turn his back on our open arms,

She speaks for the man,

His health has fallen in a deluge of torrential storms,

And though briefly reformed into misty fog,

Has been pulled from the banks and washed into the

Downward spiral of hellish rivers.

A proposition is given:

One through which they hope to judge me,

And regain me,

Pretending to know me as they have for my entire life,

How can possess pride for me, my actions, for who I am,

If they are unsure of whom that is?

They pray to pull me under with their temptation,

A poison, a vile slowing filling with my own…

Their hand I have witnessed before,

Scraping life from its skin and leaving it to infect;

These creatures cannot pull such over me.

Their bargain I refuse, their welcome I do not want,

I have yet to play the role of the grateful child,

And now, as a man, I have out grown such a cast,

Torn seams of the soul can be mended,

But the thread differs, and the scar serves as a reminder.

The dial tone of goodbye,

I know their disappointment,

And it is not with me for refusing their ‘kind offer,’

In their eyes, my decisions are laughable,

For thoughts of their minds are materialistic,

While mine lay in the purity of that which is not tangible,

A concept, a world that they cannot understand,

A state, a self-agreement, which they cannot reach,

Yet I am content in my decision, my life, myself,

What I am, what I am to be, what I will never be…

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this in about 5 minutes after I had a conversation with my step-grandmother, whom I had not spoken to in about 10 years. She had offered me what most people would have accepted graciously as a gift, but I turned it down because I felt as if she and my grandfather were trying to somehow make up for their absence in my life. Anyways, this is pretty much the conversation mixed with my the thoughts going through my head as it progressed. It's a little something different for me, and I hadn't posted anything in a while, so...

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Shannon Mowbray's picture

hi adam, i like this poem, like a lot of ppl say, yeah they are really good. i can relate to this situation alot.So if it happened to you then i can kind of kno how u feel. Im glad that u know what ur going for and that u have goals to achive. Good luck going to college.