Sometimes, in the deep of the night,
The bark of a dog in the distance sounds like the hoot of an owl.
Odd how sounds so different can mimic one another in my mind’s foggy, deep night perception.
Makes me wonder what other deceptions
My foggy mind has fed me.
In bits and pieces,
Dribs and drabs,
Bit by bit, he fades away.
Less and less and less… until
There is no more, and
All that is left is brittle pieces on the floor
To be swept under the rug where no one will see,
No one will care, no one will know, not even him.
I have to shut the door,
Keep it out.
I can’t let it in.
It will only start again.
It doesn’t care about the tears but
Loves the dark.
When I’m not paying attention, it steps on my heart and
Climbs into my soul.
I don’t know its name
But it knows mine,
There is inner stillness in the predawn darkness as
The forest begins to stir around me.
They seem to notice my presence
“Someone is among us”, they mummer.
As I sit in silence and wait,
The Eastern sky begins to lighten and
The earth responds with movement,
Air movement, a stirring, ever so slight and gentle,
More sensed than felt.
I continue to sit in silence and wait.
At last I can feel them coming closer, one by one.
Not in outer distance but in inner peace.
As they circle me I can feel them saying “Welcome”.
They bring such wisdom in their silence.
Such kindness without motion or audible voice
But a voice nonetheless, a voice that is felt with the soul
Not heard with the ears.
A voice that is eons old, no, older than that:
A voice that has existed since the beginning of time.
Since the time before manifestation.
Their voices speak to me in the sweet darkness of the woods
Telling me a tale of love, acceptance and kindness.
A story of life, of the essences of loss and the pain of suffering,
Of the agony of misunderstanding and mind induced perceptions, and
Selfish longings and needs: all of my own making.
But there is sympathy and empathy in these voices too, they know the pain,
They have felt the suffering, tasted the tears and watched their own hearts melt with disappointment.
The agony of loss is no stranger to their collective heart, so they truly understand my
State of mind today and give me comfort and love in a way only they can.
They know how I miss he who passed through the veil, they know him and he them. They are one together and it is his presence they allow me to feel here in this mourning morning softness.
The trees are my saviors; they surround me with their gentle strength and hold me in their arms
In the hardest of times, they understand without judgment, they feel my heart beat with theirs
As they stand together – silent sentinels of everlasting light and hope in
Noble silence and truth.
I am renewed by their strength, honored by their kindness and
Forever grateful for their love.
It is a hard, windy January night.
The dark is deepest this time of year with
The forest asleep, the sky swift, the stars icy and
The snow hard and crunchy under vacant feet.
For now, I am safe on this side of the frosted glass.
But later, when my eyes close, the cold will sneak in and hold me captive in its icy grip.
It will seep into my dreams and turn my tears to ice.
It will remind me of the coldness on the other side and of that empty space in my heart.
The one that used to be filled by you.
My Sunrise lover sleeps in
Soft, warm darkness.
As sunlight filters in at dawn and
The room brightens, his form slowly comes into being,
Emerging from the rumpled pile of bedclothes.
He is smooth, warm, dark and lovely.
I lie next to him, my face resting against his.
In the early morning’s half-light I can just make out
His eyelashes, resting on his smooth cheeks.
His noble nose is outlined by the
Light spilling in through the window.
His lips are beautiful and full,
Soft and sweet.
And as the room continues to lighten,
His breathing quickens and his body stretches.
I move away from him just a bit
To take in his whole being.
He is strong, lean and beautiful,
All I could ever want or need.
He must feel my presence and
His eyes flutter open.
His smile, at seeing my face so close to his,
Is so beautiful and welcoming,
As if to say he missed me while he slept.
My little heart keeps asking me “why?”
I hear her tiny voice in the quiet early morning hours,
but I have no answer for her.
She has stayed up all night again.
Thinking about the past, feeling the pain and sorrow of the now.
She has fallen into a deep dark pit,
Her little voice echos off the steep, cold sides.
I keep reaching out to her but her tiny hands
Have not the strength to hold on.
So she sinks back to the bottom and
Remains in sorrow and darkness.
It is so painful to witness this.
She used to be such a happy little thing,
Always positive, always trusting.
Albeit, sometimes a bit too naive for her own good,
But it was a naiveté not based on stupidity or ignorance but
One based on a choice to trust and believe in spite of the red flags not to.
I am afraid for her, she is tired and there are
Beasts down there with her in the darkness.
They are evil, heartless beasts who lie to her,
Who tell her she is not good enough, that she is unlovable and a fool.
They sneak in while she sleeps and
Whisper doubts in her ear.
I keep trying to tell her to be strong and not listen to their lies,
But I don’t think she can hear me yet.
So, I wait on the edge of the pit
With an open mind and open hand to catch her the next time she climbs to within my reach.
I don’t mind waiting.
I know she will try again soon in spite of her pain and sorrow.
I have faith in her – she is not a quitter.
The silence of midnight is
The silence of wanting.
It is dark and lonely.
A time soft with sadness
Until the memories sneak back in
and bring with them a scent, or a look
And it is almost enough, almost
But not quite.
I know I will long for that touch
That voice, that look,
Until once again he comes back and turns the silence of longing
A time when my sorrow will be erased by his touch,
His hand in mine and
His kiss will fill my sole like
A light in the darkness.
I know, as I have all along that
The darkness will return and
He will never be mine to keep.
He is still here at times, but in body only
His soul has left me.
I miss him most at dusk, when the day’s work has ended
And evenings past times have yet to begin.
Those times in our past when dinner was cooking in the kitchen and
Warm light filled the house.
When before dinner we would walk hand in hand through the
Gardens, across the fields to the edge of the wood
Where the songs of night
Drifted in from the forest and filled our senses.
The essences of early evening,
A feeling more than a time wherein.
We were love and completeness.
We would finish our dinner in the kitchen and
Take our wine to the porch and watch as
The last light faded from the landscape while
The sun’s glow lingered in the treetops.
Evening deepened and the world stopped spinning.
All was calm, all was quiet. And when the hour was late,
We would climb the stairs together and
Sink into our inviting bed.
He always began by sliding his hands over my body as
An expression of his love.
I could feel the heart of his passion
Against my lips.
As his smoking soul ignited the
Fire in my heart,
We would come together in light and love.
The passion almost too much to take as
He whispered words of love and lust in
My ear and held my body and life together in his arms.
It was at those times that my soul threatened to spill out of my body
And wash away in the heat of the moment,
But his strength held it back
Covering it with his love, protecting me from myself.
And each time, as the lovemaking ended and his body
Lay hot and limp on mine,
I would look into his eyes and know,
Just know, that the world, our world, was as it should be.
In that moment I had no darkness to fear, no sadness to run from
Could feel no distance between us in the night.
Instead, the darkness was comforting in its
Completeness, the totality of its effect sealed our fate each and every time.
But in spite of the lust, the passion and heat, in spite of
A love that felt as if it transcended time and space
There came a change.
A change that for me meant an emptying of hopes, an end to dreams, and the pain of knowing that after all the sincerity in the darkness,
It was just a lie and my love would never be returned.
And so it remains a love, a hope, a memory and a dream held only by one
Struggling to survive in a lonely bed at dusk.