shoot through you like a lightning bolt
leaving your veins full of apple blossoms
your skin electrified with memories of kisses
your eyes a movie projector
playing thoughts, words, music
are so dense that you can’t breath
so compact that you can’t move
leave you in the forest
with no compass
no ability to find north or south or east or west
leave you orbiting the planet
a satellite floating alone
so very far away
no contact, no feelings
are the departing gift that keeps giving
a gift that has you smile in a crowd
lost in your own happiness
oblivious to the world around
are not so lovely
trapped in that last breath
hoping he would inhale one more time
so you could rest your lips on his
and take him in
to let him continue to live inside you
two as one
if only you could
left an imprint
on my flesh
my burning chest
when we held
my sister’s sadness
etches deep in my flesh
I am consumed
wet and desolate
jolted from a placid state
a bandage ripping off a scab
exposing raw flesh
opening the dam
the heart’s intuition begins to flow
do i possess the strength
or am i just an
sorrow addict looking
for her next fix
am i drawn to a familiar sorrow
ever encompassing sadness
is there such a thing
is there such a thing?
Upon reading. Editing and adding words and lines, I felt that two things were happening. I was recreating my poem by adding these words and lines. By the process of separating them I realized that a second poem was being created 🙂 thus I left the added lines to the right. The poem can now be read in three ways.
In this dead cold night
winds rush past my skin
leaving it white and cold
but as cold as my skin seems
is not as cold as my heart
season of joy they say
season of birth decorated with white beards and red suits
bells ringing to attract money
money is the key focus of this season
there is no joy of truths
only traffic and debt and over indulgence
my heart is cold
for it is void of love
memories are fading
soon they will not keep me warm and safe
from the merchants of ‘happy’
december 24 2016
Why are so many able to move on
To put the past to rest
To look forward without tear filled eyes
Why do I still see you each night
I feel the hurt more each day
For with every day I know its real
You are gone, dead
Nothing can bring you back
I drive and remember you
Like a movie being played
My memory clicks on and there we go
Every word, every movement your body makes
a beautiful large silver band
To remind you, that I love you
To tell everyone that I am still yours
My love has not faded
I don’t want this love to go away
Why should I have to move on?
We spend so many years fine tuning our love
So now they want me to discard it?
I will not stop loving you
I will not move on
I just don’t want to
You never know what your body is going through till one day it stops you in your tracks so you take notice. This past year I have cocooned in a basement flat while the world of snow and sun turned. I covered myself with feathers so high that not a breath could be witnessed.
Each day my breath got smaller and smaller till a major panic attack struck.
I thought I was having a heart attack.
The ropes tightly drying around my torso till there was no room for any air in my lungs. Once I recodnized the shock left and I started thinking about how great it was going to be to be reunited with B.
Was this the time?
Had my sorrow finally found the exit door?
Would I now be looking for the great white light to walk through?
The anticipation of seeing him in the distant.
His wonderful distinctive silhouette waiting for me.
No…………. Was not to be
Then what do you have in store for me I ask!
What could I possible contribute to this very angry world
Have I not suffered enough?
Can I not now be re united?
My belief of the power of the universe and its purpose comes to my mind.
I submit to it.
Trying to be grateful and open to the next step in my lessons.
The old art of following your instinct is a difficult ability to ignite.
Once you do its a long process of trial and error.
Like fine tuning an art form or magic trick.
Understanding that even though we have fate to guide us we still have personal prerogative in our destinations.
This is where my fear comes in.
I am quite familiar with my fears they have been with me since I was a child.
I remember being so terribly shy that I would detour my walk home by blocks if I saw someone I knew.
At times I would slow down and present to tie my laces or I found a penny or pick leaves anything but walk my regular pace.
Why you may ask?
Well because I did not know how to walk past a person.
What do I say?
What if our walking ends up at the same pace?
What will I continue to say?
Oh the emotional pain of a young child not knowing how to relate to others.
When I got a bit older I found that if I made of fool of myself that people would laugh and the pressure left sooooo I continued to be a jokester.
The losers [if I dare say that word] were always much more accepting then the bright students so I neglected my studies and was instantly accepted. I started to smoke cigarettes and that made me even more accepted. I even got the grade 8 bad boy to notice me and we became an item, kissing hugging daily at the doors of the anglican church next to the catholic school that I went.
I have lead my life based on my fear. Still the universe did protect me in many ways. Always putting things in front of me that would help guid me back.
The Universe brought me back to my husband and the second time I followed my gut even though I was scared.
I trusted it and I trusted B.
A BIT OF HISTORY:
One day I was sitting on the floor of my attic flat looking through the art schools fall classes.
Turning the pages I spot a name.
Bells went off my instinct was flashing lights and music!
Needless to say I took what ever class this person taught. After a world wing affair we part amicably.
Two years fast forward and a friend insists I go out for a beer with her.
Reluctantly I agree.
On our way to the car around the corner I hear a motorcycle being started and I look to this mass of leather and helmet but I am drawn to a salt and pepper beard.
Being drawn in to the point where I lean over and look straight into the visor.
This is potentially a stranger on a motorcycle and my friend say ‘What are you doing?’
I hear my name being said and the voice is unmistakeable.
I say his name.
His visor comes up and my friend says
“Oh god!,,,, call me tomorrow!
Her voice laughing as she enters her car and I throw my leg over the back seat of the motorcycle with all my yards and yards of pleated cotton skit.
I put my arms around that chest and I felt like I had found my home.
It was the fall and by spring I moved in with him and five years later we were married.
Now I am again sitting here in fear but following my gut and trusting it that this trip to Fogo Island will somehow bring me peace.
I apologize for the length today and must really get myself some breakfast.
Follow you gut, your instinct and don’t forget to continue writing no matter what it is.
what is in a table
wood, glue, love
if the tree lives
does it not still absorb love
if the tree lives
does it still not absorb memories
embedded in ever line
retained within the cells
happy, angry, sad
what is in a table
I waited for the sun to burn a hole through me
but it didn’t
I wanted the heat to evaporate the heaviness that is in me
but it didn’t
I wanted the clouds to fly so low that they picked me up and took me with them
but they didn’t
I want my lead heart to be removed
so I may feel no more
feelings and thoughts
stay locked behind the door
that possesses no key
thoughts and feelings
like cement they compress become dense then petrify
the body grows heavy
feet expand accommodating the weight
arms pull down from the scapula
the neck can no longer support the weight of your head
you disintegrate from the inside out
all of this has to happen privately
no one wants to see or hear of this
if you speak
you must present it like something that
everything must be
in the past tense
with victorious results
So….. privately you …….
live in this world…..
with a glimmer of hope…
that if you can
draw a line
apply colour to canvas
that you will some how
have lightened your load
then again that is the hope
What do others do?
How do others cope with the processing and not leaving behind unfelt emotions?
In casual conversation with my sister in law she said, ‘You don’t want to let him go’.
Oddly I felt great relief hearing her say that for she was so very right. I don’t want to let him go. We were not divorced, he was taken from me by a terrible illness. He did not want to leave me. So I suppose I have to find a way to live without his physical self and enjoy the endless memories, and continue to blog with the hope that I might help even one person.