I live inside my head
My head is where I live
I see him there most vibrantly
So, please, please, forgive.
I have no heart inside me
From inside me I withdrew the toll
I paid by giving him my heart to keep
And it left a great big hole.
He died and left me here alone
He left me when he died.
I know he didn’t want to go
and fate would not be denied.
My soul splintered when he left
Inside my soul is bereft
His death has left me lost and hurt
With a life that’s been set adrift.
Am I “getting better?”
“Getting better,” I cannot see.
How the hell do I “get better”
Since I am no longer “we?”
I do not want to grieve
Grief causes me great despair.
Return my Dragon to me right now
And we’ll just call it square.
Sigh, they’re not letting him come back
He won’t be returned to me
I will have to live without him near
As they have ignored my plea.
So I live inside my head these days
Yes, my head is where I live
It’s where I keep all my memories of us
So our life I can relive.
i sometimes wonder if anything i have done has been any good? has any one of the little ripples i have created in life moved or altered any collection of pine needles or leaves along any shoreline?
there's a visual for you. you can see it, can't you? you have walked up to the edge of a small pond and settle down close to its edge. there are millions of pine needles barely breaking the surface tension. floating there quietly. or leaves floating, gliding, moving and bumping into the edge where the ground meets the cool water.
throw in a little acorn or a small pebble and there are ripples. was that pebble large enough to move anything? did it make a difference in the symmetry of the little collection of flora at your feet?
does anyone even know what i am trying to describe?
i do not need to be important but i would like to think that something i have done has mattered. i am honored to have the children i have. that is something right there. i live quietly, not bothering anyone. but that is not anything. that does not leave any mark on the world. i am an artist. i am a writer. will my body of work outlast me? is it worth anything?
self-doubt is embarrassing. i wish he were here. i saw myself in his eyes and in his smile. i was (am?) loved by him. i wish i had gotten used to it while he was alive. but then it seemed an endearing quirk that i was always honored that he loved me. he would cuddle with me and caress me and tell me he loved me. he told me i was his world. to me, that is something. a man like him loved a woman like me.
he is my world. so where do i go from here? i am living the quiet life we loved, only i am living it without the cuddles, and his voice. the long years are stretching out like a one-point perspective drawing - in which parallel lines not parallel to the image appear to converge at a vanishing point. i will keep walking and living but there is no Dragon to the left, or right, not in front or behind me. just me walking that narrow little highway alone.
i am tired tonight. some things happened today that caused me distress. no need to go into it. tiny, heinous little things. had to get the ex involved. little troubles that build and weigh a person down.
like a finger pushing on a leaf trying to delicately float on the surface of a pond. enough pressure and it goes under for a while, then it pops back up a little worse for wear.
that is what i feel like tonight. a little worse for the wear.
i wish he were here to cuddle with. to caress my face. and to hear his whispered words of love.
i sometimes wonder if anything i have done has been any good? has any one of the little ripples i have created in life moved or altered any collection of pine needles or leaves along any shoreline?
6 comments:
Very descriptive--I could see it all as if a movie passing my eyes. You, the leaf, was pushed under, but you popped back up--a little downstream--a little further down from the strife. Floating on again--ever onward.
Beautiful words. Descriptive words. Words I understand. You have done a wondeful job here, identifying the feelings as we walk alone. Oh how I wish it wasn't real. I can sense how the added distress pulls you down. It all seems too much. Then something comes along to remind you that it was easier a few minutes ago.
Your poetry is comforting in that it feels quite familiar. I wish it were not true for any of us.
Dearest WomanNshadows,
I'm sitting out here in the ocean while you are heartsick for it. I can see it in you as plainly as if I were sitting across from you. Your two friends are right. Your poetry is very descriptive. I've never read much poetry but yours, I'll read yours every time. I guess because I know you, and it means something to me. I like the leaf thing. You have a beautiful mind and heart. I am privileged to be allowed to know you.
Semper Fi
Your ripples have made a difference in my life and in my sons' lives. And in all the people who are able to wrap themselves in their loved ones when they wrap themselves in the quilts you make. Your ripples have made a difference in the lives of your children, and in all the people their ripples touch. And I know there are many more that I don't even know about. So rest assured, you matter and make a difference. Now if we could only figure out a way to make this missing them hurt a little less....
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