Heartache

At Yuletide

~ Iyan Igma

I sit inside my own grave.
It’s dark and damp because
My tears fall like snowflakes for
The pain of what isn’t but was.

Festivities ring out below me,
And shoppers dream of silver bells,
And children dream of presents,
Except the ne’erdowells

Like me who have destroyed life
Choice by choice by friend by friend
And have no family to welcome home
Or visit at the year’s dark end.

Salty rain occludes my vision
As “Little Drummer Boy”
Turns into a “White Christmas,”
Followed by “Hark,” “Silent,” “Joy.”

But listen as I might I hear
No joy, silent or otherwise.
All the traditions and songs
Of youth have been but lies.

My family doesn’t want me,
And I’ve no money to see them.
The only things they’d talk about
Are men and why I’m so slim.

“You need to eat more, honey,
The wind could blow you away.”
“Are you seeing anyone new now?
Old maids have no wedding day.”

I’m not anorexic. Why should I eat?
I don’t have enough will to live;
I only nibble enough to survive.
But I’d laugh out something glib

To pretend I hadn’t felt the barb.
And let’s not talk about men;
They all take advantage of me.
I don’t want their sympathy again.

They mock me with their kids
That act so proper and prim.
My brother has a perfect her;
My sister has an upstanding him.

They just want to discomfit me,
But I’ll never let it show.
Their happiness makes me distraught,
So I seek out any beau.

There’s no sex this Christmas;
I couldn’t bear another tryst.
Each time I get hurt worse;
It only hurts once to slit your wrist.

Then, there’s no more pain,
No more heartache and loneliness.
Hell can’t be worse than now
In my socio-emotional abyss.

In fact, it could only be better,
For I’ll end my body’s pain.
I won’t have to live tomorrow;
From fret and worry I’ll abstain.

I’ll need not make more decisions;
I’ll never be hurt by another friend,
Mocked by family, ignored by God,
Or betray my gifts to heartless men.

Not even my mother loves me;
There’s no point in going on.
She should know my pain and call,
But love is muted on the phone.

Let’s have a drink to me tonight,
Perpetually on the naughty list.
Should I choose now the jugular
Or slit useless, petite wrists?

The bathtub. It will drain the blood,
So it’s easier to be rid of me.
That’s all anyone’s ever wanted,
Though I was too hopeless to see.

I brandish the knife curiously—
It’s the present that will unwrap me.
To think we die by such simple means,
When living is a vast complexity!

I can scarcely see my skin
For the salt that stings my eyes.
‘Have some resolve you stupid girl;
Hack away, and silence your cries.

It won’t do to whimper for
For there is nothing for you here.
Why won’t you act? The knife’s so
Close! Don’t be paralyzed by fear.

Do you really want to continue
Being mocked, abused, and ignored?
Each day kills you mercilessly,
Never wiping your blood from its sword.

How many reminders do you need?
No one loves you; Mom will not call.
This isn’t like all the times before,
When you thought, but that was all.

Christmas time calls for red and green;
Your blood and envy paint it true.
Now go ahead, you foolish girl,
I have no more use for you!’

Long slits deep go up my arm;
Pain cries to my head to cease.
My plasma warms the water;
The casket will grant me peace.

There are no tears to mourn me here,
Only gushing tears in my flesh.
It reminds me, oddly, of infantile days,
Of my mother’s soothing caress.

How long have I been here now?
The water’s grown chill; so have I.
I wish I could hear my mother’s voice
Once more before I shortly die.

It’s a struggle now, but I somehow
Manage to drag myself from the tub.
My naked, bleeding body crawls across
The Linoleum floor I used to scrub.

There’s no vitality left in me;
I collapse from hands and knees.
I cannot make myself go,
Despite my curses and pleas.

‘Goodbye, mom,’ I think softly,
Since whispers are now beyond me.
I hope somehow she can hear me,
Know I love her, and be glad I’m free.

I lie here face down as I ebb,
Drawn like the low tide by the moon.
Something prickles at my memory,
And I’m trying to place the tune.

“I’ll be home for Christmas?”
Wryly I think that I’ll be gone.
What is that faint ringing noise?
Is it the last time I’ll hear the phone?

I wonder who it could be?
Just leave a message; I won’t reply,
For I’m drifting off to ether,
And my spirit the stars will pass by.

“Honey, this is your mother calling,”
Those words by tinny noise relayed
Have given me a spark of energy;
Maybe death can be delayed.

I inch ahead with bloodstain smears.
“It’s Christmas Eve. I worry about you.
Call me when you get this message.
Merry Christmas. I love and miss you.”

Her words died out as did my strength,
Finding me ‘neath the Christmas Tree.
Its lights are dark just like my joy.
My veins and stockings are empty.

A yuletide wreath of blood surrounds me;
Sight’s dim; I hear music for the last time.
“So have yourself a Merry Little Christmas,”
And drink to me and “auld lang syne.”

I Walk These Lonely Hills

~ Iyan Igma

I walk these lonely hills for you
Like a ship adrift at sea,
Wishing you’d come to take the helm
And rescue myself from me.

Bonaparte on Saint Helena
Knew not of my captivity,
Reclusive, exiled from power,
Parted from you, ma sweet cherie.

The leaves have grown, the trees have, too;
My anxiety ever grows
Like blossoms trapped under snow drifts
With tears freezing as they transpose.

Chirping birds call for you in spring,
And we both wait out your reply
So intent we barely notice
That the strong young have learned to fly.

I see the sun seeking by day,
And the moon mourns with me each night.
Often the spirits of the dead
Watch me with pity at twilight.

Years ago now we were to meet
To elope from this dense wildwood.
I wait. Love and hope never die;
If they were true they never could.

That night the storms blew around thick
Like a mine collapsing on me.
Surely the storm kept you away.
Why haven’t you yet come for me?

The wildwood is still undisturbed
Like the love that I have for you,
Though many moons have seen me wait
Unphased by the cold, heat, and dew.

I’ll wait for you, until I die,
And then should you come, love’d heal me,
Unlike the bones of some poor man
Whose love visits him faithfully

On the self-same day that we should
Have had our anniversary.
Her finger’s bare. She kneels. She cries.
Would you cry those same tears for me?

She found him years after I did;
He lies defunct in the ravine.
He must have taken a faux-pas
And stepped right into the unseen.

The more she comes, the more fancy
Starts to run away with my mind.
For though she’s old and weary now,
She looks more like you all the time.

A Miracle Too Soon Gone

~ Iyan Igma

Your family will never heal,
Though you would surely want them to.
They live sad day by painful day,
Never resting in peace with you.

Your suffering’s come to an end,
But you’ve passed the baton to them;
You’re a miracle too soon gone,
An obviously missing gem.

The bonds and roles that you fulfilled
Have left profound and gaping holes
In a family so tightly knit
That ’twas a tapestry of souls.

No parent should e’er have to bear
The tragedy of letting go
Of their greatest creation,
For in death a child should follow

The ones who gave their all for him
And lose part of themselves indeed,
Since you slipped away so young, and
They couldn’t give you what you need.

They think that they have lost you, since
Your spirit long hence has moved on;
They’re still trying to cope with pain
That’s graven into their heart’s stone.

But you are here close and unseen,
A guardian angel to them,
Trying to console and strengthen
Till you’re reunited again.

The irony is that the eyes
That we trust more than faith are blind
To the unexplained love we feel
Subtly subdue the distressed mind

When loved ones liberated from
Life’s pain tell us that all is well.
But their passing makes us empty.
They rest in peace; we rest in Hell.

On the Bed Where We Loved

~ Iyan Igma

Lying in the bed where we loved,
Where respect and appreciation were grown,
And our friendship was improved
Is the greatest torture ever known.

How many decades did we spend
Ill-clad and holding each other tight
Before there came this lonely end?
I miss you so much tonight.

If only I could hold you close,
Your head on my chest, hand in hair,
And hear you slumber in repose,
Then I could heal my heart’s great tear!

You became so much a part of me;
I learned to depend and trust in you.
Waking up, you were still and musky,
While passionate the whole night through.

I watch the ghosts of lovers past
Enjoy what has been taken from me.
I tell them, wishing that it could last,
To enjoy such vibrant intimacy.

Wrinkled skin that once was soft
Whispers across my heartbroken skin,
And no matter whatever the cost,
I’d long to tell you “I love you,” again.

You died today, though months before.
Your side is as cold as it was then
The morning when you woke no more
And my misery did begin.

Without you, I feel so hollow;
You taught me to live and be a man,
And I pray that quickly I can follow,
No longer knowing who I am.

To relive our years is my wish,
And I’d love you even more than before,
Now I know how much I miss your kiss,
Your company, your words, and so much more.

Each night I die without you,
And I awake each morn in hell,
The only thought that gets me through
Is that I might follow you soon, as well.

Omens with a Simple Touch

~ Iyan Igma

The ivy on the window sill
Tried to warn me that you were to leave.
But it mourns not for you,
For it is growing while I grieve.

I wonder how this simple plant
Could be green with apathy,
Indifferent that I have lost
The dearest person there was to me?

I think it’s trying to tell me
That life goes on, and I must grow,
Till another ivy touches the sill,
And I go where the soul’s wind shall blow.

I wonder if there’s life for me,
Since you’ve withered brown and away.
Living in your afterdeath,
There’s so much I long to hear you say!

I wonder at what this plant knows,
That such omens with a simple touch
Were portentous enough to show
How my calm life could change so much.

The One with Whom I Now Lay

~ Iyan Igma

I noticed when we met today
The tragic, nostalgic, longing way
You looked at the one with whom I now lay.

She’d never give in to your whim,
Since she knows that your affection’s slim,
While I dote on her and make her heart brim.

Years hence she gave her heart to you,
And the softness of her body, too.
But you neglected her till she withdrew.

Your heart was bleeding in your eyes,
Seeing how her sun blazes the skies
When cherished as befits a wondrous prize.

So, have the moon you left her for
And brood on treasures that vaults can’t store,
For she’ll lie blithe with me forevermore.

When I Loved You

~ Iyan Igma

None wanted you when I loved you,
For they said that you were too mean,
An eagle that feasted on flesh
And could not be bothered to preen.

Though I discerned your inner jewel,
They saw only the rough of you.
I cut you with my expertise
And your own luster consumed you.

I made you see that you’re wondrous,
The meteor, not the crater,
Your otherworldly charm. You’re an
Infidel to your creator,

For now that I have made fine art,
The art says that it was not made.
You owe so much to my tender love
You immediately betrayed.

Yonder Hollows of Eden

~ Iyan Igma

Near yonder hollows of Eden
By the banks of the rivers four,
A hopeless man lies a-bleedin’
In his own life’s pool on the floor.

God, angels, nor man can save him,
Since it is more than they can do
To witness him groan grave and grim
From where his sister ran him through.

She plunged the knife through his rib cage
And gave it a hideous twist
And was a gleeful sangrephage,
Licking spurts of blood from her wrist.

There have died many knights errant,
But ne’er so heartbroken and blue.
Adam and Eve are our parents,
I’m the lad, and the sister’s you.

The Ring’s Vow

~ Iyan Igma

When last we were naked together,
I wished that you might stay
In my ravenous arms forever.
But duty called, and you were away.

I never got to hold you and
Enjoy the exuberant kiss
That only lovers understand
When they are wearied by bliss.

The moment is gone, as are you,
And now there’s none to warm my bed,
To cuddle with the whole night through.
O, that I’d been a nun instead!

For these emotions will linger,
Although they cannot be fulfilled,
Like the ring’s vow on my finger,
Since we were engaged, and you’re killed.

Oh, had we not been so hasty
To give our maidenheads away,
And had love not been so tasty,
I’d not be tortured today!

For there are bonds, my dead young man,
That will chain down the living’s soul.
You became part of who I am,
And without you I can’t be whole.

Sure, I could lie with other men,
But I can never lie with you.
I would remember us again.
But in death I can lie with you.

Sailor Boy

~ Iyan Igma

Sailor boy, you’ve come back to port
After journeying far away.
Why is it you won’t look at me?
Is there nothing you’d like to say?

Why haven’t you taken me in
Your arms or made a bride of me?
I guess it’s true that sailor boys
Have no heart save for ship and sea.

Are there no stories you would tell
Of bounding mains and foreign shores,
Of hurricanes ventured bravely,
How mates snore and the captain bores?

Why haven’t you shared more with me?
I’ve loved you since I was four.
I wish you’d stand and hold me, but
You don’t have land legs anymore.

You’ll take your final voyage soon
And be taken away from me
By the dame that wooed and killed you,
Buried with your mistress—the sea.