Traveling Abroad

Posted on October 18, 2009. Filed under: Parent of an Addict, poems |

Traveling Abroad

She’s gone . . .
on the ultimate cultural
exchange program.
Total immersion.

She’s crossed over
to another world
with her passport of pain.

She has become fluent
in a new language,
and has forgotten her own.

We can’t seem
to understand her . . .
and need an interpreter.

She travels light,
with nothing but
fear and shame
as her companions.

When will her visa expire?
She doesn’t know,
we don’t know.

There is no itinerary.


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3 Responses to “Traveling Abroad”

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Beautifully said! I so feel your pain during this journey of H. You know I am here for you always.

Peg, thanks for this! i am a poet too, so I truly appreciate that you chose this form to express something so hard to put to words. Thanks for being here; i appreciate knowing that I am not alone in this journey.

Peg, here’s the poem I wrote when i was coming to grips with my son’s addiction:

“Grave Digger”
by OneMomTalking

So many people
gone wrong.
Their songs
become the songs of
grave diggers.

One shovel
for the death of a grandmother.
One shovel
for father’s disapproval, one
for mother’s inability
to move forward
when the marriage failed.
One for the drugs he did last weekend, and now

He keeps digging
because he doesn’t recall
how not to dig.
His song is the song
of a Grave Digger:
the low baritone chant
of a gaunt and gray

And the rain begins to fall.
And the rain begins to fall.
One shovel of dirt for the timing
of the rain.

The funeral
is a long way off.
But the grave:
always at the ready.

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