Eric

my dedication to writing has slipped
my personality withdrawn
I'm not contemplating things I'm blank with not much to say
this is a nod to disconnect
when I should be feeling deeply I'm not

passion and sadness overload I’m losing myself
my home is sold and I don’t where I’m going
my eldest son of thirty six is dying
some would say he drank himself to death
not to me because I would kill them

so many times he called me suffering from delusions
his anxiety crippling
he tried psych meds they failed him
he asked me how I coped I told him really I don’t have the answer
that I write and I paint
and hope I don’t die in shame because substances killed me

I’ve pored over advances in psychiatry for schizophrenics
all of my children have it
as my mother who I never knew before me
what I do know is she never indulged in drugs or alcohol
and electric therapy and Thorazine failed her
she spent most of her life institutionalized

they told me as a child I would grow up to be crazy like her
choosing not to believe the weight of it all
despite my genetics I conceived
to have my children torn from me when I was in the psych ward for three months
they were adopted I was able to still visit them
and swallowed my pain when they called someone else mom

as each of my boys hit their teens
they were cast out and I was shocked I really believed these people loved them
one by one they came to me
and I tried to protect them from the bloodlines that ran through them
actually I had been sober for years
living in the country and for the moment the voices calmed

still the city life called
and they chose one by one different paths
having families and doing good until the monsters appeared
they each have it to different degrees
some are coping some are not

my boy is dying, his body is shutting down but his will to live is strong
he is afraid to let go I don’t what ghosts he sees in the in-between
he no longer recognizes us

the last words he said were to my daughter
“sister you found me” he felt so lost
no one should suffer the life he has
such sweet boy the world chewed up
neither hispanic or white
he was never in a gang

living in poorer neighborhoods I can’t count the times he’s been jumped
with great feeling of helplessness I watched him spiral
doing what I could to help him
being povetry sticken myself and beholden to another
because crazy people don’t stick up for themselves
and the ones that do are out there fighting their monsters by themselves

there was no safe place to bring my son
and I am reminded their are no promises, no not even dignity in death