The devil came knocking
I am currently taking a Personal Essay Writing Course. It is an opportunity to develop my writing skills and to receive feedback. I am taking two. The second one being Writing for Social Change. I was nervous at first. What feedback would I receive about my writing? I was putting myself out there again. I was taking myself so far out of my comfort zone, would I even know what planet I was on?
It would all be fine.
I told myself that I would never write a poem. Never. Never. Never. I don’t have the skill. I can’t do the rhyme, but there is no need to do the rhyme. It’s the prose that’s important.
So, you are reading my first attempt at writing a poem. I asked a friend to look at it. An English teacher no less, with a love of Shakespeare. I really was, or so I thought, going to get my fingers burned with this one.
As you read this, read it slowly, add intonation and imagination. It will create the scene for you. It will help you engage with the narrative.
A story of love; pain; suffering; kindness and loss.
It’s not perfect. It’s not meant to be.
The nurse isn’t about me or maybe it’s not even about a nurse. I think it’s a metaphor for something. Maybe it’s about the kindness of others who are willing to be around you, when you need them the most. So, it could be a metaphor for a friend or family member, who goes that extra mile. As nurses often do. The protagonist in this story is angry and because of her anger, her grief, her suffering, she will shout at her friends; she will shout at her family. It wouldn’t matter to a nurse if this happened. They would take it in their stride. It wouldn’t matter to those who love her. Who care for her. They too will take it in their stride.
The Devil Came Knocking.
A story of true love.
It wasn’t love at first sight,
More of a slow burn.
But it worked.
Our love grew.
Each day brought magic.
Each night peace.
Love built on patience and understanding.
Kindness and compassion.
It was all needed.
When the devil came knocking. Knock. Knock. Knock.
To feel another’s pain.
To feel another’s heartache.
Are all strengths needed.
When the devil comes knocking. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Hard working, unwavering, compassionate and caring.
That’s a nurse.
Decision maker, facilitator, collaborator and instigator.
That’s a nurse.
Kind and considerate, thoughtful and enduring.
That’s a nurse.
If this is your nurse
Take special care of her. Be kind.
For she is worth her weight in gold.
When the devil comes knocking. Knock. Knock. Knock.
I don’t want to be strong,
I want to be left alone. I want to die.
Please, leave me alone.
I will eat when I’m ready.
The house can go to hell, I don’t care.
Because last night the devil came knocking.
I tried to keep him out.
I begged him not to come in.
Not to take him.
Not now. I’m not ready.
My cries fell on deaf ears.
Don’t take him, I cried,
I begged him.
Not now. Not now. I love him. Please.
My tears didn’t matter.
He stood in the doorway, showing no mercy.
He came knocking and found the door open. It was locked. I’d locked it. I’d checked.
But he just walked in. And with those first few steps the gates of hell opened.
And I was sucked in. The pull ferocious.
I watched from afar as they cared for him. Did their best for him.
I watched again, when they took him away. All hope gone.
The flat line told me a story, I didn’t want to see.
It told me a story, I didn’t want to hear.
It’s been a while now. The tears have slowed.
Life holds a new normal.
He visits me when I least expect it.
In a thought. In a feeling.
And I have my memories. They are vivid and strong.
The devil can’t take those. Can he?
