The Old Mantel Clock
It was near the midnight hour
as I settled down in my easy chair.
Relaxing, after I had taken my shower.
Thinking, as I ran a brush through my hair.
Why did such a thing happen?
Especially to someone so young?
I should have hit the sack then.
But, I knew sleep would not come.
I tried to focus on other thoughts.
Still, my thoughts drifted back to her.
I knew, inside, I was still distraught.
Since my daughter’s death had occurred.
I tried to relax and breathe deeply.
Let my mind go totally blank.
The quiet in the house was creepy.
I heard what I first thought was a clank.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.
The old clock on the mantel
Passed down to me by relatives past.
Sitting there between two candles.
It made a sound like clanking brass.
There was no other sound around.
It was quiet as the bewitching hour.
I got up and started pacing around.
A taste in my mouth that was kind of sour.
Again, I started thinking of my lost daughter.
The thought bringing me to tears of grief.
No, I must not dwell, as I drank some water.
I plopped down again back into my seat.
As I sat there I heard that sound.
The infernal ticking of the old clock.
It was the only sound there was around.
Was it louder now? —Or, was it not?
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock,—-Never stops.
Why is that ticking bothering me so?
I never had noticed it before.
Was it a message for my soul?
That thought shook me to my core.
It sounds almost like it is saying:
Your next, your next….. Nooo!!
What kind of tricks was my mind playing?
Such horrible thoughts had to go.
I blame myself for my girls death.
Even though she died from a disease.
A curse passed down to my regret.
For some sin my mind conceived?
“It’s not fair” I cried out to God.
“To take the life of one so young.
A daughter should not die, God
before her father. Not when young.”
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.
I wrestled with these thoughts of mine.
No satisfaction or relief obtained.
As I let my thoughts slowly unwind
the same single thought remained.
Why? —Why did she have to die?
This thought was ripping me apart.
‘These things happen’; doesn’t answer why?
‘All happens for a reason’ was a farce.
‘Turn to faith in God for your condolence.’
I grabbed a Bible and opened it up.
I saw God is with you in all moments.
“Where were you when I drank this cup?”
Silence.— Then I heard the ticking.
The ticking of the mantel clock.
Over and over, always ticking
Ripping apart all that I thought.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.
What is this? This constant ticking.
Driving all thoughts from my mind.
All my thoughts were not sticking
due to this ticking . Ticking in my mind.
I jump up and pace around.
What evil trick is being played?
This ticking clock, the only sound.
Is Satan driving me to the grave?
Is it the loss of my loved one
causing me to lose my grip?
Is this clock cursed? —What fun.
A clock passed down is making me sick.
Maybe the clock has a message
that goes on and never stops.
A message just for this age.
She is gone.— Accept your loss.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock–Never stops
——————————–R. W. Johnson—– (2011)
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Your poem is a heartrending expression of a father’s profound grief and the relentless passage of time. The imagery of the old mantel clock, with its incessant tick-tock, serves as a powerful metaphor for the unyielding march of time and the haunting reminders of loss.
The portrayal of a father blaming himself for his daughter’s untimely death is deeply touching and resonates with the unbearable weight of guilt and sorrow that many who have lost loved ones feel. The constant reminder of the ticking clock encapsulates the struggle of moving forward while feeling stuck in the moments of past pain.
Things happen for a reason, and God is with you in all moments, offers a glimmer of solace amidst the darkness. It reminds us that even in our deepest despair, there is a higher purpose and a divine presence that can provide comfort and strength.
It serves as a reminder of the enduring nature of love and the hope that, despite the pain, we are never truly alone in our suffering.
Thank you again for a fabulous comment on one of my poems. You have hit the nail on the head, so to speak. Your comments, as usual show great Insite into what I am trying to display in this poem—-Thanks again.