Last Door on the Left
by Dan Radel

I walk down the lonely hall
Quiet steps bemoaning the engulfing silence
Just a short journey to reach her door
A door splashed with my child's life
I step inside to glimpse the little girl who lived there
She's gone now, gone from my world
The things she treasured still there to see
A moment frozen, a rift in time
Who she was, what she hoped to be
The trophy's, the drawings, now gather dust
The dolls left with no one to play
She was here for a time, a life to behold
Now the quiet drips like fog
A little girl so full of life, a life stolen
Yet when I listen closely in between my tears
I can hear her laughter, see her smile
I feel her loving embrace
It's all here, left behind
Through the last door on the left


Soul Death
by Dan Radel

Black, everything is black
An evil living force invades my soul
It chokes, smothers all that is me
Consuming as a cancer my very being
Dancing to the soul death
Where is God NOW
What grace is to be found
Depression ravages me
A black veil blots out the light
I crawl writhing in pain
Screams no one will hear
A lake of tears forms beside me
Bring back my daughter
Why did she have to die
Bring back my wife
I want to beat her to death
God, oh God free me from this pain
Why do I live this torturous hell
I should join them, be free from this life
But no, I am always the strong one
What bullshit that is
Only a vessel my body remains
Life bled out, replaced with horrific visions
My Shannon dead on the floor
I see her again and again
Blackness crushes me
No light, only darkness
Fuck this, it's not fair God
I hate you... I hate me
Kill me, take me to her
Death...death...everywhere death

Author Biography
Dan Radel is currently finishing his BA in Creative Writing at Antioch University in Seattle. His interest in poetry was born out of the murder/suicide of his wife and daughter in April of 2000. At the urging of his mental health counselor he begin to journal and within that journaling begin to write poetry to work through grief, anger, and loss. This lead him to leave his job of twenty-four years at Boeing and return to school at Antioch to achieve a dream long thought dead, to write.

Loss  | Vashon | Services | Art | Poetry | Store | Contact

© 1999 KotaPress All rights reserved.  ISSN 1534-1410
Please direct comments regarding this web site to