Sunday, April 5, 2015

A poem by author/poet GARY G PELOW, The day she died.

It is approaching rapidly, that Friday the 13th of 2001, the day she died of AIDS, the day I was left alone to fight life  without her presence. I despise Easter, it has been 14 years of loneliness and dreams that she has some how returned to me, out of death and back into life. How I wish I could take comfort in the god fantasy that is not real.  The pain of her being gone is strong enough, almost, to make me believe in an imaginary friend in the sky who now has her, my beloved Arlene, worshiipping at his feet, such a lie is seductive in many ways, how do you lose a person to things like Cancer and AIDS, and tell the living there is no god to greet them and preserved for them eternity?  I can not participate in such an obscenity of lying to avoid pain, how utterly evil and dishonest that is, that false faith.  I seek no such comfort in my loss of Arlene, I need to keep my pain, I would rather wallow in my pain yet remember her love, this is better than the lie.  The pain shows us as humans who can love each other and act better torward eachb other without god or gods.

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