“Mom- there’s a bug!” startles you from your slumber.
So, you stumble out the bed, onto your feet, and make your way to the kitchen first, to get your weapon because toilet paper will not do-the guilt seeps through the thin plies of tissue.
Still squinting, you walk resolutely down the hall to her room.
She points to the corner wall as you fumble for more light and notice
the “bug ” is a spider and you see its size, color, shape, and that its legs are long but it’s not a Daddy-Longlegs, and it’s just sitting there
on the wall…in her room, and you, too sleepy to do the catch and release reserved for daytime spiders, apologize for your murderous action as you push the thicker-picker-upper paper towel against the wall where the intruder crouches
and you feel everything is wrong somehow- in the killing of an
innocently sitting spider, at eleven o clock at night, because
everyone knows, “Thou Shalt Not Kill”, and the words rise within,
like an arachnid ghost hovering, reminding you of words
that spiders don’t know and certainly don’t live by.
Besides, spiders are the good guys, you think to yourself,
then it occurs to you that good guys die, too…
and injustice finds its way into the hearts of everyone.
So, you squeeze that paper towel tight making sure all life is
crushed from within- and every innocent rises in your consciousness,
visions of concentration camps, mothers’ wombs,
and the memory from the news of one nine-year-old girl
shot dead while doing homework on her mamma’s bed after school.
And you think how nothing is fair and life is a game of chess
for some, but some are like the spider on the wall
in your daughter’s room at eleven PM.
###
Some of you who have followed my writing may recall this poem. This poem is one I continue to revise. It’s one of my favorite poems that I have penned though somewhat “clunky”. Maybe because it was so vivid as I wrote, and it was still a time when my daughter was alive. I originally wrote it in 2015. It was published in an earlier form in an anthology with a local writer’s group.
I think poetry is a powerful memory keeper. If you can capture the essence of a moment in verse you keep it forever.
Keep remembering. Keep writing.
Enthusiastically, Dawn
#nationalpoetrymonth
Enthusiastically, Dawn 
One response to “When You Kill A Spider In Your Daughter’s Room at Eleven PM”
Oh Dawn, first of all, I have to tell you that I just had a spider just like that in our bedroom, and on my pillow on the bed, no less!!! I will tell you that I had no such feelings of sadness for the spider as I quickly escorted him still on my pillow to the bathroom, where I made sure that he was quickly flushed down the toilet. I did say, “Bye Spidey” as he swirled away. But then I tried to go back and lay down and take the much needed nap that I was intending to take, but all I could think of was that spider on my pillow, and wondering if he left behind any family under my covers…so needless to say, I did not enjoy a good nap or even a good night’s sleep that night until hubby took measures into his own hand the next day and sprayed our bedroom with indoor bug spray that was long overdue. This is Florida, and in the springtime all kinds of bugs find their way out of the woodwork, so to speak, and we do not pause to feel sorry for them one bit. However, I DO appreciate the sentiment of your thoughts in your poem. We should be more cognizant of the inequities in life and death and be more sensitive regarding those who are suffering or hurting or are innocently gone too soon. It’s good to be reminded of those things, and I love your writing, and especially that this particular poem was written as a result of an encounter with a real spider in your precious daughter’s room…I understand how any memories of our loved ones who have now gone on to heaven can trigger a waterfall of many more memories…oh yes! I do understand that! Some are good and make us smile, and some are deep and bring tears to our eyes. Some we wish we could do a “do-over”, and make things better somehow…but life goes on for us, and we have to deal with those emotions in the best way we can. Writing about things is one of the best ways. Thank you for sharing this story. I just can’t get over how that picture of that spider is exactly like the one in our bedroom last week. I still don’t know what kind of spider it was, but I am just really glad it’s gone and that I haven’t seen any orphans left behind. (((HUGS))).
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