perfection Options

[*CrackedRearView*]

Until tonight I had never realized just how perfect the human figure is. As I stood there, isolated in a stark white room, alone in a sea of a hundred, I came to this conclusion. I found that the contours on the hand are perfectly complimentary. As if one day, your hands clasp, and the missing piece to the proverbial jigsaw is recovered.

So hypnotically calming was the idea of human perfection; so healing was the idea that perhaps things, like hands being shaped for one another, are planned, fabricated, executed, committed, and hurled onto the unsuspecting for an ultimately divine purpose; so numbing was the sense of propriety I felt in the connection of two hands.

And then it crashed down; her hands, like mine, were clasped. As if to erase the idea from the forefront of my mind, and as if a simple disconnection could eradicate the throes impeding my emotional stability, I quickly jerked my hands apart, and found pockets for them. Like a child hiding that one forbidden toy.

I remember mine like it's still in my arsenal; as if my wall of electronics, serving only for superficial entertainment, is still complimented by my childhood cap gun.

Oh, what a joy that little vessel of happiness truly was. What excitement it brought; what dolor it ended with. Banished from accessibility forever more, the cap gun dissolved into blurry memory, along with an ample amount of other, more important recollections of time spent with her.

The feeling is indescribable; the feeling of guilt that comes standard when you simply cannot remember your mother's voice without the assistance of an answering machine.

71 times, and counting. It's 27 seconds long, too. She sounds so artificial, yet I just can't bring myself to ignore it. It's as if her recorded message is the only snippet of her addictive, alluring voice that I'll ever be able to retain. As if that tape, that is tucked so tightly into my shirt pocket, is the last morsel of that beautiful voice I'll ever taste.

How ironic that it sits over my heart; the heart that failed. Failed at what it's programmed to do. Failed to love her when it was most important. Failed to do the job any typical son does. The heart that forgot her voice; the voice that first spoke to it. A heart that commits that foul is not a heart at all. Apparently, that must be the void in my chest, because I feel it. I feel it every day she's gone.

She was so beautiful tonight, wearing a white silk gown with exquisite trim. I put my hand on the edge of the casket, and stared in wonder; in paralyzing bewilderment. The stupefaction that such perfection can inflict on the observer is ineffable.

I leaned forward, and placed a final kiss on the very forehead I had kissed so many times. A final kiss; my heart's final attempt to succeed.

I remember, as I gazed my final gaze at this wondrous prototype of a mother, a solitary saline tear made the plunge from my face to hers.

"Don't cry, mom."

And the casket was closed. The hundred left. I stood, arms draped over my mother's final bed, yearning for the chance to exchange 18 years for five minutes.

But it never came. And I stood, a black suit, isolated by four oppressive, austere white walls, admiring perfection.

[uLoVeMikeRoch]

Wow.... Amazing.
Deep, Inituitive.
Sad, sad story.
We all hate loss.

[Just_Dream]

I really don't know what to say about this, Justin. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I read this part:

"How ironic that it sits over my heart; the heart that failed. Failed at what it's programmed to do. Failed to love her when it was most important. Failed to do the job any typical son does. The heart that forgot her voice; the voice that first spoke to it. A heart that commits that foul is not a heart at all. Apparently, that must be the void in my chest, because I feel it. I feel it every day she's gone."

I wish there was a way in which things could be made better, but it's impossible. At least your mother is in a better place. 71 times, listening to that tape on the answering machine... So poetic... *sigh*

[*stephinika*]

beautiful, but so sad... i just about cried. the words you used are so emotional and powerful.

[me1issaaaa]

Oh my God, Justin.
I wish I knew what I could say. I love you dearly.
You're so talented. Wow.
Please, if there's anything I can do to help, you know I'm always here for you.

You're in my prayers, dearest.

I know none of this really has any conselation, but hey.

[Ekay]

You certainly have a way with words...In the poetry world.. You are like a role model to me...I'm sorry for your loss, however...and hope that you truly will feel better.

[toodlepops.]

That was an awesome poem, a real great one.

[*islandgirl4eva*]

Justin, words cannot begin to describe how beautiful this piece was.

I know you don't know me, and quite frankly, I don't know you...but I hear about you all the time from dear Anna.

I am so sorry for your loss. I don't know your circumstances and I can't say that I know how you feel, for I don't, but I truly sympathize and hope that you'll be okay.

Your mom...whether you believe in the divine or not, she's at rest now. Her body and soul are free and you'll have her forever in your mind and in your heart. I'm sure that despite your parting words (which I saw you write in chat), she loves you with all her heart, for you are a part of her.

Good luck Justin. You have my condolences and best wishes.

- Naomi

[xTINAA]

Wow Justin, just wow. You never cease to amaze me with your writing. You write so beautifully, I'm jealous. This piece was so beautiful...just beautiful. I loved it. I have to admit, it made me cry. From "The feeling is indescribable; the feeling of guilt that comes standard when you simply cannot remember your mother's voice without the assistance of an answering machine." on I just cried. I can't even imagine what you're going through. Like I've told you before, I've never experienced such a dramatic tragedy as losing a loved one. I'm sure it must be a terrible ordeal to go through, but I know you will get through it; you're a strong one and you'll persevere. As for your mother, I'm sure she's in a place one million times better than here and that she's looking down on you, proud of her son. No matter if you say you don't feel as if you did your job as her son, I'm sure you did and that she knew you loved her regardless of how many times you told her, "I love you." I hope things get better for you Justin. You of all people deserve it. I'll be praying for you.

[sheepy]

wow.
i loved it..so deep, and wow...

[*CrackedRearView*]

Thanks everyone.

Sincerely.

[*Azarel*]

Lord knows how many times I've read this piece, and how I read it just because of the beautiful language. Each time, it tears my heart out. It's so beautiful, powerful, descriptive.. This piece is amazing. You really do have a way with words, my dear.

[*mzkandi*]

Oh..oh wow..I am so touched. Very Powerful..

[ItzOnlySydney]

this poem in one word: amazing

[*CrackedRearView*]

You're all too generous. Thanks guys.

[*mona lisa*]

Wow, this piece went straight to my heart when I read this. I was tearing, not only from the story but from how realistic it was. You do have a special way with words. I could picture the whole thing out in my mind. You are a wonderful writer. Stay strong.