The Screaming Box

Author: Kristin Reynolds
Word Count: 639
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The Screaming Box

This is a poem about my mother: The lost, and The found of her…
She died tragically (suicide/murder) when she was 26 and I was 7…back in May of this year my uncle sent me an old box I’d never seen before, which held ominous letters written a year, a few months…and right before her death; a pair of glasses, her bronzed baby shoes, cards kept from holidays, and a few other (now sacred) seemingly insignificant keepsakes.
This box would not stop. I had to hide it, so the pull of it did not suck me down again into her ends.
This is a poem about that box.
A repost, as this was only the second poem I ever posted here and I wished it read. :)

The Screaming Box belongs to the following groups:

! Creative Writing & Poetry !, "Poetry and Beautiful Women" , All Out Emotion, All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, Anger Management, Core [C.O.R.E], Creative, Talented, and Unknown, Masterpieces: Literary Workshop, The Art of Pain, The beauty of poetry, The Red Writing Room, The Word Tree, Up & Coming Writers, Vibration in Art and Verse - VAVoom! and WMG

You are tied tight,
woven into my fabric, too close knit to distinguish
our separate blends.

So hot…the box of before,
burning its insides with the rare dust
of an angel’s wings;

vibrant and tickling my internal villi;
twisting my every inner switch to ON –
you are 2:am static,

and that alone
makes me hear you.
(O’ this is hell!)

This box holds your voice
on paper echoes –
so many letters!

And every secret you ever hid, screams
from the burning page.
I heard you today.

Your brother sent the box holding all its insufferable
inner mumblings – reverberating; thrumming
each ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign i’ve hung

in your (and his) name;
nerves I thought I’d cauterized –
I WANT TO BERATE YOU, DAMN IT!

Mother. That word doesn’t work for me.
It never has. It’s hard to believe
it ever did.

(too close knit to distinguish
our separate blends)

The box watches me.
It sees me when I put on your glasses.
Could you see me looking through your eyes today?

I saw only the blur
of time
too long gone,

and an old face looking back
where a young one should be.
And what do I do? I listen.

I listen to the box.
I do the only thing I can:
write you. Us. Write

what you couldn’t say;
write what you couldn’t fix;
fix what the stars knew –

(and I didn’t)
O’, how I want to hate them for that!
But I know their language.

I know the way they move across
ages; singing only to those who know
how to sing back,

while bathing the backs of those
who have forgotten how to hear them
with cool, white cloths.

The box waits.
It waits for sad eyes and hot hands to translate
its secrets.

And I, in my unending need
for berating too close knit to distinguish
our separate blends

will always dip my broken pieces
inside it’s pulsing walls, trying
to touch a small piece

of what you handed the moon;
trying to absorb the light that died
along with you –

trying not to hate those damn stars.

Gran kept every card you (and I) ever gave to her.
And as I cradle their ancient musk
words come to me like screams,

feeding this God forsaken box
with the will
you never had;

forcing my madly sparking nerve endings to attention;
holding any semblance of truth
I made of you, in siren palms.

2 weeks.
3 weeks.
4 weeks before your death, and more.

Letters from you, to home.
And no sign.
No hints from you.

But I see them now;
30 years too late –

But I see them.

I see you dying.
I hear you screaming between the lines.
And all I have to show for it is

this lousy loaded box filled
with mourning after thoughts
desperately trying to hear your soft voice

calling out to a child 11 years your senior
at the time –
the only one who hears.

A few months before your death
you wrote to your brother, saying,
“I keep telling Kris, one day

we’ll get to Paris together -
but sometimes, I wonder…”
Deep down…she knew.

You wrote things only a poet could ever read
between the lines (like glass)
had I read you then, as I do now

I’d have seen this box in my future,
staring at me with dull beige eyes
from the highest shelf,

willing me to reopen my wounds,
and stroke it’s contents,
until we are both inconsolable –

emanating waves of another’s secret sorrows –
so tightly woven
touching me…

What am I to do?
This is only my first day with the box
that owns my fiber.

bill bell

K-bird that was moving, I’m glad I’m up early to work on a Saturday. The poem along with the explaination was just haunting. One of my faves of yours and that’s saying something.
Kristin Reynolds replied

I’m glad it moved you, B-Monk (hehehe, sorry, I must)
thanks hun, love, K xox
erich biemer

catharsis lives here…thank you for sharing it…
namaste
Kristin Reynolds replied

I’m glad I could find it a home before it ate me alive, thank you, Erich. :) xo
ArcadiaTempest

I see the wound so red and raw…healing as much as time allows. We can talk of feeling emotions and writing them and then you can have words that live them on the page like this….The coldest heart would find the deepest chips after reading/feeling this verse. Sorrow can have a beauty I believe and also a cut once more as we heal. Much love to you and your bravery is beautiful me thinks XXX
Kristin Reynolds replied

Thank you so much, KS, you are an everflowing current of love and wisdom, thank you. :) xo
Trenchtownrock

This is just mind blowing my friend..the box and it powers really brought your heart out in this piece..I can feel the emotions..confusion..love…misunderstanding..so many things flying about in this piece that makes me just admire your talent and stand in awe of your journey…poems like these tend to bring me to a place that grown man are not suppose to talk about..it brings me a place where my eyes are clouded with tears..a place where pain is so real and the anguish of lost love seems so unbearable..you have brought me to that place…you are such a talent Kristin..I wish nothing but the complete best for you and your journey through this maze we call life….one love.
Kristin Reynolds replied

Chris…for ever word written here; and every other of your words, thoughts, and compassionate heart-poems, i love you. Really, you are so cool, kind, and compassionate I feel you in my bones, as you are so like me. :) my brother from another mother for sure.
one love my man! xoxox K
p.s- I wish you the very same. xo
Christie Moses

My sweet precious Kindred friend, I remember this one so very well. Your strength and bravery are amazing. I have read this again and feel choked up. Its hard to know exactly the right thing to say but all I know is you are a brilliant shining light and I love you to the infinite universe and I believe in eventual reuniting. One day all these wrongs will be righted. XOXOX
Kristin Reynolds replied

I know. :) all you need to do is show up with hugs and kisses. :)
xoxoxoxo
marieangel

great write i could not wait to get the the end to see where it was leading now i will read again….
Kristin Reynolds replied

Thank you so much, hun. xo
happyfeet5

Heard you from your heart. Funny how little things, like a box, will make you think, wonder and make you angry, then sad and understand. A child who loses her mother so young mourns her everyday of her life. Thank you for sharing. Iris
Kristin Reynolds replied

That second to last senteance made me cry. so true, not ever. thank you so much, K xo
trwoody

Dear K, I have such a box. With the musky memories of yesterday and you have stirred it to call me now. Such a tribute to give the memories eloquent lyrics
Kristin Reynolds replied

You do? hugs to you, then. they can be very loud.
xoxox
MimosaRose

You express such pain…such longing….such devastation…a desire to know more…
to touch and feel her…this is a Masterpiece that only a daughter with such loss
could possibly write….Bless you, Sweet Kristin!!!!!!!!!!!
Kristin Reynolds replied

Wow, thank you so very much, mimosaR, I’ll take that blessing. :) xo
autumnwind

I remember this one well too, for once read who could forget it? It is rich and full of conflicting emotions, so deep, so deep. feel you, love you. xoxoxo
Kristin Reynolds replied

I love you, Shar, thank you dear xoxoxoxox
lianne

How those of us who love and admire you ache to read this – not just that you have opened your mother’s box of memories, but that you have opened yourself – the box of you, the pain, the questions, the anger, the heart that is you. What incredible courage it takes to do that – and to do it so eloquently in this raw, direct and honest piece of work. This says that your mother’s legacy is far richer and deeper than the pain of losing her and your beautiful heart, your longing soul express that so bravely. I could cry for your loss – and I do – but I applaud and cherish who you are because of it. xox
Kristin Reynolds replied

The last sentence in your comment deserves appluase, for that is exactly what i love: no pity, just exactly what you said…that’s everything. :) you always know just what to say, poetess. :) xo
Cassidy JK (Ra...

My beautiful sister, I am at a loss about what to say, so I will say only that I am so touched by this oiece. I’m happy that you brought it back to receive the recognition and respect it deserves. I love you! Xoxo
Kristin Reynolds replied

Thank you in so many ways, I could never say thank you enough.
XOXOXOX
I love you, too. :)
raymondoantonio

AN ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE!!!! YOU ARE JUST SO CONSISTENTLY BRILLIANT AND ALWAYS SO MOVING!! BELLISSIMO KRISTIN YOU ARE THE BUSINESS!!! XO
Kristin Reynolds replied

Wow, Raymondo, thank you for saying that; most of the time I feel very small compared to all the talent here on RB. You made my day, thanks, huney-bun! xoxox
JRGarland

The loss such as yours I cannot fathom. To receive such a gift can only be a blessing from the past now gone. This poem has touched me in ways I have never been touched before. My heart goes out to you this day with more tenderness than I thought possible. Well written indeed.
Kristin Reynolds replied

This is a poem unto itself. :)
For every words you write to me; for your friendship, understanding and love: Thank you dear man, I am honored to know you. :) xoxox
Cassidy JK (Ra...

Congratulations Kristin.
Kristin Reynolds replied

YAY!!! Thank you, sweet Cass! :) I love it when something great comes out of something so damn hard; you are a blessing. Thank you for seeing me. :)
K xoxo
gretchen .

how amazing the way you capture such a difficult, complicated, beyond-this-world notion and address it with such boldness and integrity. powerful writing sister, from a powerful woman. x o x
Kristin Reynolds replied

wow, thank you Gretchen, that comment really moved me. :) strenght, for me, is an ebb and flow affair. if I could only find the valve for constant FLOW, I’d be all set. :)
thank you sister, love, K xo