Monday, July 13, 2009

To Hell (not yet back)

Where to begin. I'm a wife and mother of two, a twelve year old daughter and a seventeen year old son. For the past four years, our son has taken our family on a dark journey to hell with his continuing addiction to weed. Anyone who says that weed is not addictive or harmful needs to spend some time with my son. I'm sure they will reconsider. Perhaps, to some, weed can be a harmless habit, but for others, it is not. I'm beginning this blog as a way to put my emotions down and as a place where hopefully others will visit and offer advice. I will chronicle our family's trials and hopefully, in the not so distant future, this will be a brighter spot to share our triumphs. I'm not sure where this journey will take me, but I lay awake each night staring at the starry sky wondering how it will all end. I'm going to end my first post with a poem I recently wrote about my son. I will never claim to be a good writer, but I like to write nonetheless. Writing has remained the one thing that has been calming and helpful to me during these tumultuous times and I have always admired poetry for its ability to say so much with so few words.

Little Prince

I ache for the simplicitiy of the past,
my charming prince, with trusting eyes, dimpled knuckles, an eager smile.
When a challenge was a scraped knee, or the dragon dream
you'd cry out for comfort,
and I, your adoring queen, would effortlessly oblige.

Too fleetingly, a morose replacement,
with an icy stare, bruised fists, and an eternal scowl.
Battles that break me.
No longer able to rescue, the queen turns to demon, unrecognizable.

In your room, on a quest for traces of innocence shattered.
Success? Not exactly.
Awaiting your return, knowing that words will fly like daggers,
grievously wounding those in their path.
Once thrown, impossible to sheath, the damage, irreparable, I fear.

Unforgivable rage turns to soundless tears, mourning all that we have lost.
Agonizing silence, again.
The drawbridge has been lifted, leaving insurmountable walls, defensive moats.
A peaceful kingdom no more.

Oh, to return to the days of glorious castles and beautiful queens, dragons so easily slayed.
This time, little prince, I would never let you go.


  1. I can so relate to the writing. Go figure. Here is my site where I have written out all of my emotions - its not great but it has gotten me by... I am linking a post/ poem about my own teen :

    I am so glad you found me, you are not alone.


  2. I too mourned for the loss of my beautiful gifted son. His curly locks and clear eyes. His smile and gentleness. His hopes and dreams. His music and his art. His golf clubs and track shoes. All blotted out by the disease of alcoholism.

  3. So sorry, Cindy. It's a heartbreaking and devastating loss. I think we never stop mourning for what could have been.

  4. The poem is beautiful. I too can relate. I love the idea of a peaceable kingdom.