Enjoying the gentle summer rays.
Long black hair framing a petite face.
Hidden underneath a delicate straw hat.
A fitted sundress patterned with yellow and white ruffles.
picking up the wind so quietly every now and then.
The majesty of nature surrounds us.
It’s warm embrace calms us deep down to our very souls.
The leaves flutter around us softly.
Blown about by the cool afternoon breeze.
Whispering secrets delicately as it runs to and fro.
As the birds sing proudly and waddle about.
A wave of melancholy hits me in the gut.
As i gaze upon my mother.
Dressed in the pale blue robe given to her.
Hey beauty now ravaged by the war she fights internally.
her spirit a shadow of what it used to be,
What it should rightfully be.
Her eyes burn brightly.
Not willing to give up.
But I’m just not so sure.
Tears well in my eyes.
As i remember my mother,
I long to be home.
back to better times,
Sitting underneath the old oak tree.
He rushes to the hospital in his rusty, powdered blue pickup. Another important meeting would be missed. But work is the least of his worries. Climbing the corporate ladder is not his priority. Not right now at least. Slammed by traffic he nervously taps on his steering wheel. The tension is as thick as the stifling humidity. Another brutal 35 degree summer day. Some music should help. Absent minded, he turns The dial to any station. After a minute the radio starts to drone on and blend in with the endless line of cars ahead. He sweats profusely as he recalls vivid memories…
Cradling her lightly, his cheeks are wet with tears. Only hours old, so small, so feeble, so amazing….. A miracle in a time so dark. A birth in exchange for a death. The Gift of life crashing against the devastation of loss. Losing the woman you love is an indescribable pain; deep and haunting, piercing places you never thought possible. She died due to complications during the birth delivery. He vowed to never forget her auburn hair drifting gracefully in the summer breeze. The way she would curl her lips right before he kissed her. The countless other quirks and mannerisms he memorized and grown to love. He would never forget the stubborn, beautiful, strong woman he fell in love with.Today would be the last of his life. His last chance to cry openly. His last opportunity to be weak. He would be a father after today. Devoted solely to the life left behind by the woman he adored. But for now, for this one moment, he would let himself be weak. He held her gently against himself. A ball of life so weak, so pure; whimpering to himself ever so softly…
The blast of the horn from the red convertible behind him shocks him away from his daydream. Drenched in sweat and barely awake, his foot slams on the pedal. Back to the hospital. Back to reality.
He bursts through the doors of the lobby. Searching around in a panic; a feral beastly frenzy consumes him. Cool air blasts from the powerful AC sending a chill down his spine. “My daughter! Where can I find my daughter!” He shouts. Grabbing a nearby nurse by the shoulders, “I’m Mr. Cooper, Where’s my daughter!”
Waiting is agonizing, painful, and cruel. Three long hours have passed and his stamina is fading. His faith is being strained and his prayers are left unanswered. Slumped over in an uncomfortable chair; He waits outside the ER, a ball of negativity and concern. He clutches a piece of paper tightly; The last words he saved from his late wife. A small selection of names that have all been crossed out. All but one: Hope. He closes his eyes and starts to sob quietly. Something he promised himself he would never do again….
“Mr Cooper.” A doctor with a weary expression and a hardened face approaches. “Yes, that’s me. How is she? Is she okay?” He tries to read his eyes, but comes up empty. “I’m sorry Mr. Cooper. We’ve done all that we could. She couldn’t be saved. I’m so sorry for your loss…”
The words echo in his ears.
His world goes black and his strength disappears.
This is the day where he losses hope.
My name is Steven Truong and I’m a young aspiring writer from Ottawa Ontario, Canada. I consider myself a creative mind with a passion for art, literature, dance and physical activity. I recently graduated from Algonquin College in 2012 for multimedia development. I specialize in content management and information architecture.
I use my writing as a medium to express emotions and explore my creative boundaries. I’m happy to be writing for pointsthruprose and hope you can follow me on the sites bellow. Thanks!
Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/IMStevenTruong
I used to hate you
I used to loathe your very name
You were to blame for my own shortcomings
You were the problem, not me, never me
The simple thought of you would send me into a downward slump
Reps and sets, routines and schedules, sweat and tears. Not something I wanted to go through
Running countless hours towards an end with no finish
Chasing something immeasurable and seemingly unachievable
You were my wall hard work. My own personal Demon
You tried to break me, to scare me, to drive me away
I just couldn’t see the point
What could you possibly give to me?
What the hell can I hope to achieve?
But still I devoted myself to you
I put faith in the fact that you could change me
The me that I was tired of seeing; that I was ashamed to be
The weak and pathetic me that I had let myself turn into
You were all that I had; all that I had left to cling onto
I would not run from you
I could not and would not be scared of you
I’ve heard the stories about how you operate
How you would break the strongest of men and leave them with nothing
Of how countless others have been reduced to tears because of you
But I’ve also heard the stories of what you can do
What people have achieved alongside of you
What I could become by believing in you
This is my open letter to you hard work
I will not be defeated, not by you, not by anyone
So come for me
I’m waiting for you to pay off