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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: No Shadow in Aprildots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: KimmyMim
    Elite Ratio:    4.4 - 223/303/117
    Words: 337
    Class/Type: Story/Depressed
    Total Views: 896
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2635



    Description:
       I firmly believe that my eldest was poisoned with mercury when she was a baby. Mercury, aka "Thimerisol" was used as a preservative in the vaccination shots at the time. The parallels between mercury poisoning...and characteristics of autism are amazing. But...much as the public tries to scream out loud about it...the government and their policies continue to suppress the issue.

    Yes...the majority of the shots are "thimerisol-free" now. You can ask your primary care provider just to make sure. But...that doesn't do anything for our babies, who are now adults, who were poisoned with a chemical that was cheaper to use...than a natural product.

    This is a true story...it really happened...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsNo Shadow in Aprildots
    -------------------------------------------


    After 14 hours of waiting,
    answering probing questions,
    and more waiting,..
    the call came.
    It was five o'clock.

    At seven, two attendants
    waltzed in through the double doors
    with their tight, white stretcher,
    and their painted smiles.
    They signed us out.
    "Could she please walk?" I asked.
    They agreed.

    ("...I was thinking of her dignity...")

    For well over an hour
    I followed the red
    blur of the tail lights,
    my thoughts racing faster
    than they drove...
    We arrived - no fanfare.

    Our escorts shuffled
    us through the back entrance.
    Brief, informal introductions
    through a half door.
    All around skeptics observed,
    watching our every move,
    taking visual notes
    with their suspicious eyes.

    Someone with a ring of keys
    approached us and took
    all her belongings.
    He ransacked her bags,
    and removed the glass
    from prized pictures
    and frames. Everything
    had to be examined,
    itemized and numbered,
    and placed
    into a locked closet.

    More escorts.
    This time to a room
    littered with debris
    and furnished
    with a long table
    and twelve stools
    bolted to the floor.
    There were several
    deep holes in the walls.

    ("...the size of fists...perhaps...?")

    I reviewed their paperwork,
    asked my questions...
    and signed apprehensively.

    They gave us a moment alone,
    locked in from the world outside.
    I shared a prayer
    with my first born.
    We hugged like
    there really was
    no tomorrow.
    Then, holding back tears,
    we said "good-bye."

    ("...they wouldn't even let me tuck her in...")

    Two men
    clothed in white
    escorted me down
    several long hallways,
    through more locked doors.
    A dull song of metal keys
    tapping on thighs
    echoed to the tune
    of their footsteps as they
    guided me to the front entrance.

    Outside a clear, moonlit night.
    An early April chill filled the air.
    Taking a deep breath
    I heard the last door
    close behind me
    with a click.

    Then...
    all was quiet.
    And that was it.
    Emptiness consumed me.
    I was alone.
    My shadow was gone.




    Submitted on 2006-01-26 14:14:02     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Wow, ---sorry ===that's all I can say. I am 70.--mother of 5 and grandmother to 10--and oh-my-jeezus ! we have had trials and tribulations----but after reading this-----I feel such empathy--my family's 'troubles seem so much less ( not that they ARE)---it;s just that your words elicit so much feeling--that your scenario overwhelmed me---this was wonderfully wrought---it tugs at the heartstrings--yet never expresses a maudlin moment or cries out for sympathy--it's the raw bare bones experience that you describe---in excruciating detail that captivates the reader---and carries one into your realm of emotion---however briefly. I will remember this poem for the rest of my days---

    Silver
    | Posted on 2014-02-20 00:00:00 | by Silverdog | [ Reply to This ]
      The emotional devastation these events incurred is painfully obvious but I wonder at what actually occurred. She got released from jail only to be relegated to the mental ward?? Why would autism symptoms incur this? Was she a danger to herself and others?? Having been 5150ed before I'm afraid I can appreciate this, but did she survive or recover. Do you actually feel this vaccine additive was to blame? If so I can see why you speak up about it. In days of yore psychiatrists would drill holes in patients heads to let the demons out. Even today many practices seem antiquated and outdated yet there outcomes we still live with. I feel for you.

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2014-01-30 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      phew, very powerful way to describe the loss, the shadow having gone. Such an integral part of nature as a child to a mother. Heart Breaking.
    | Posted on 2006-02-27 00:00:00 | by PaulHudson | [ Reply to This ]
      The ending talks for the whole poem, and it is powerful, striking, it leaves one without words. How could I criticise a poem that is, in itself, suffering? That would make me despisable. All I can say is... I hope your shadow will return...
    | Posted on 2006-02-12 00:00:00 | by Kalyiel | [ Reply to This ]
      Umm, how do you really comment on something such as this? I don't really think there is a way. I think that the best thing to do is to read and try to understand, even though it is difficult to put yourself in someone elses shoes.

    The pieces of life that people write about are in my opinion the best type of poetry there is. There is no fancy words, no strict structure, just open honesty. The pain, joy and every other emotion is what makes it so hauntingly beautiful.

    These are words written. They aren't polished little pieces to spark the readers imagination. It is simply life. And pieces like this are the hardest to write.

    I salute you my friend for having the courage not only to write this piece, but to share it with us.

    Brightest Blessings,
    Crystal
    | Posted on 2006-01-29 00:00:00 | by lenotoire | [ Reply to This ]
      *gulp*

    I'm so happy that you chose to write this and share it and so sad that it had to happen at all. I've fortunately never had to live through anything like this, but you've given us all an insight into that terrible evening.

    I've amassed a small collection of pieces like this is my favs. Nebnim's "Womanhood", African Princesses "She Melted", Chell's (my wife) 6:08AM. This is a worthy addition. What they all share in common is a simple telling of a very difficult event. There's little flowery expression, no rhyme, no structure. There's really no need for spelling out the pain; it's all there in the events. All of these poems scream pain and they all scream of courage. The courage to live, to survive and to share.

    Thank you for writing, sharing and obviously loving your daughter. Hopefully, this is as bad as it gets.

    Steve
    | Posted on 2006-01-27 00:00:00 | by Lost Sheep | [ Reply to This ]
      Your 'proem' is probably as close to perfect as any write that's been posted on this site in some time (I'd attribute that to the unyielding realism and absolute purity of description that bolsters this sad tale of separation anxiety under the worst possible circumstances). Children often 'shadow' their parents as they learn the subtleties of becoming an adult; how do parents cope when the shadow is gone? Excellent, excellent write. God bless you, ma'am. Take care of yourself. Bill.
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
      Hey there,

    Part of my love for short stories comes from the ability to tell a detailed account of something in as few words as possible. you have done this beautifully, showing us but telling us nothing.

    I do wonder what happend. My two guesses are a suicide attempt, then her being put in a hospital of sorts for supervision, or some substance abuse problem, resulting in arrest. Sorry if that stirs up bad memories, but I do have a point to make with it.

    As demonstrated through the eyes of a parent (wonderfully might I add), there really are kids who need help, who are truly walking the line between self destruction and mental instability. The problem is there are simply to many kids who act and say its them. The whole "I'm depressed/cut-myself/suicidal" act has been done to death. Most of these kids are just calling out for attention, and don't really have problems. This makes it 1000x harder for kids who really are in trouble to get noticed, and they are often the ones who don't. THAT is tragedy, being in Jr High is not.

    Im truly sorry you had to go through something like this, but there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, and a chance for better days ahead.
    "Its the moments that draw blanks that make us who we are."

    Sorry I got carried away. I really did enjoy this write. It was written very well and the voice is not only sincere the whole way through, but strong as well. Well done.

    Take Care,

    Bryan
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by Scrumpy | [ Reply to This ]
      the imagery in this is very captivating. It definately drew this reader in! Descriptions of the holes being perhapes "fist size) and that the stools were bolted down very much added to the overall feel to this poem. I really like this also because you allowed it to be free verse and weren't tied down to any given rhyme scheme. Somtimes free verse can be far more powerful than metered rhyme. Great job!
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by Linksquest | [ Reply to This ]
      This prose/story/whatever is remarkably put together and extremely well thought out.

    The story of a parent and their firstborn child (the fact that it's a daughter adds more to the drama) being separated for reasons that neither of them can control is a good start. But I think that the strength of this piece lies in the manner it which it's told. The form it carries throughout almost tells the reader how to feel and makes them understand without them even realizing it. Short, terse lines not only reflect the abrupt manner in which the separation comes about in the end, but help the reader to focus on certian emotionally charged diction that drives the point home even more. And the title seems almost out of place until it comes into seemless contact with the very last line.

    Very well done. Keep it up.

    -Lance
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by giventofly | [ Reply to This ]
      Oh Kim... I am so sorry to hear this is a true story. It's awefully heart-breaking. I don't know what it is she did, but the true reality of the world today is that sometimes the slightest mistakes cannot be forgiven. Again, I'm sorry.

    DeepDreamer2008
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by DeepDreamer2008 | [ Reply to This ]
      Im not sure what this is supposed to be about. I think that, maybe, its about putting a loved one in jail? A child, from what's said. But the description is too much like a hospital or morgue. Im really not sure what to make of it.

    The way it was written reminded me of a found poem. Like you wrote it, then broke it into lines and stanzas according to the rhythm you felt. It read nicely. The descriptions were good.
    -HaldirLives
    | Posted on 2006-01-26 00:00:00 | by HaldirLives | [ Reply to This ]


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