By Ilene L. Cooper
Member-at-large

 

she shoulders silence,

hidden in a mind of violence,

quieted,

by the infamous pill,

opioids and fentanyl,

the mixture true,

sublime,

she tried it for a third,

even a fourth time,

silencing the pain

numbing her brain,

she called out in sleep,

someone’s ghostly name.

 

how does the triangle of

a moment cool,

then simmer,

to the outer skies,

moonlit eyes,

sharing a cover

of darkness inside,

entice and seduce,

only to sigh and reduce,

into a life of nothing,

to lose all that there is,

to lose oneself,

steal and lie,

for a momentary high.

 

she fought the dreams,

and turned the nightmares

into schemes for success,

whatever that means,

to others and me,

it is simply

a way of being,

clearly seeing without

paralyzing pills, alcohol or

whiskey drills,

she drifted into a

rehab center,

on a whisper and a prayer,

to sacrifice the numbing,

the denial,

and the rage,

she turned a page.