A Lesson in Love

I wrote this particularly dark piece in November of 2015 after having just found out that the man I thought would be the love I had always wanted and had been waiting for was… well, not who he presented himself to be.  It hurts my heart to read this but it remains valuable as a reminder of the power I allowed someone else to have over me… a lesson I won’t soon forget. 

 

 You Are the Lucky One

 

“If I laugh just a little bit

Maybe I can recall the way that I used to be, before you

And sleep at night – and dream”

Cat Stevens

 

Will that time ever come to be or am I

Destined to spend forever wanting,

 

Dreaming and remembering

Your presence in my life.

 

Sometimes it seems like it was all just a dream, but it can’t be because

I still feel your hands on my body in the night,

 

I smell the scent of your skin in my bed and

See your light in my soul.

 

In my dreams I hold you, I feel your arms surround me and

Taste your mouth on mine.

 

You hold me close as I listen to your words,

Words you whisper in my ear

 

As you make love to me as only you can do.

Your passion is overwhelming, your hunger for me insatiable.

 

How does that end, how can passion like that just stop?

Where did it go?

 

Does she make you feel like I did?

Does she make you forget me?

 

If so, than I guess you are the lucky one.

Lucky to go from one love to the next without taking a breath.

 

No nights lost in the pain of what was

Or of what could have been and the why of it all.

 

No time spent in a wanting so intense that it drags you to the bottom of a dark pit,

A pit with steep, slippery sides, with no end, no way out,

 

No footholds, no dreams, just darkness, only darkness.

It is not the soft, comforting darkness of our times in each other’s arms,

 

Those times in the dark of night when we were the only two awake in the world,

Two alone sharing nights of love and trust, sweetness and heat, but

 

It is a cold and lifeless darkness, the kind that smothers you in ink, sucks the breath from

Your lungs and crushes your skull with its heaviness.

 

A paralyzing, frightening darkness that turns your thoughts back in on themselves to

Deceive and choke you,

A darkness that disguises all the goodness in the world and soaks it in pain and anger.

 

This is such a terrible place to be … I can’t find my way out…

But I am glad that you have not been sucked into the pit as well,

 

Because the only thing worse than being here alone would be

Knowing you were here too but hiding from me in the darkness.

 

 

 

 

My Child Self (still there, inside, waiting)

 

Sad little girl,

Come, sit with me.

Let me hold you, dry your tears,

Kiss your sweet little face.

I know you are hurt, I understand, I see her,

I see how she is, how she treats you.

Come and sit close, you can trust me,

I will protect you; there is no hurting here.

I know you are too little to understand, and

Too innocent to see the shame and fear she holds inside.

All you know is the pain of her betrayal.

I know and see how hard you try to please her, yet still she is hateful and mean.

I hear her tell you daily that you are not good enough, are funny looking and how she wishes she had never given birth to you.

I see and feel your pain and frustration, and

It breaks my heart to watch this happen to us.

I have learned and grown while you have waited and now the time has come

For me to come back in time to you, to a time when we were one.

Look for me and don’t be afraid, come close and I will read you a story,

I know she never did.

I will hold you like my baby and sing your sorrows to sleep,

She didn’t know how.

I will show you that you are better than good enough, and

I will prove to you that there is nothing wrong with you, in spite of what she said.

You will never be alone again,

The wait is over.

Trust me my child-self,

I have enough love for both of us, I pinky-promise.

 

 

After re-reading this post it has finally dawned on me why my anger and hurt at being neglected is still so strong… that was my punishment as a child for not being what my mother wanted me to be…. first she would yell at me and then she would ignore me, not speak to me for days at a time, and when she finally did, it was only to affirm how worthless I was… my husband treated me the same way, and so did other men in my life… unbelievable… so wrong and so sad for that little girl who still lives in my heart.

One Horrific Night

I sit, as if in a dream, in my warm, softly-lit, safe, living room.  Wood-stove fire crackles contentedly while on the TV screen, volume off, a scene of unspeakable horror at an outdoor country music concert is replayed.  It runs like a nightmare in the corner of my living room, showing me that all is not right in this secular world.

The scene plays over and over as if we need to be convinced of the horror people are capable of but in the midst of the carnage, heroes stand out, people saving people, people finding courage they never knew they had, to help strangers in a time of unnatural horror.  People on the streets, news reporters, first responders all look for any shred of human decency in a scene brought on by the damaged and painfully twisted mind of one man, one human soul, one of us…

This shooting is a symptom of a long held disease of our society, one that has been neglected and hidden for too long.  Serious mental health issues affect so many people but go unnoticed or ignored. We have to stop treating the symptoms and start treating the cause.

I am sad to think that this horror will happen again.  It only takes one person with one gun… one disturbed mind, one horrific night.

I Am Sure

 

Revelations come to me when I least expect them unwanted, but insistent that I listen.

They are the kind I don’t want to know and  don’t want to hear.

But they come anyway .  Maybe to clear the way,

To open my  heart and eyes and speak the truth to my soul.

But they are hard truths to take.

My heart says no, but my head and soul say “Yes, listen and know”.

My heart is a child, trusting , self-deluding and innocent.

My soul aches for her in her time of pain and sorrow.

Love is not only felt by my heart, my soul loves too.

But my soul  is blessed with a stronger constitution, a greater consciousness, a better understanding.

 It is older and wants to protect my heart, wants to spare her from pain but knows it can’t.

So it warps itself around my heart and holds her while she weeps and sleeps.  It knows that time will heal her and is patient in the waiting time.

My soul knows my heart is good and kind and that she loves unconditionally and breaks because of it.

My soul knows that my heart knows no other way to love so it waits and loves and holds and protects with gentle hands and the love of God.

Together, in time,  we will love again,  all three of us,

I’m sure of it,  my soul told me so.

It Should Have Been

 

The poetry of my heart

Follows the song of my soul.

Although this heartache drowns me and

Its sorrow depletes my very being,

I hold my love for you close,

To protect it from those who would cheapen it.

From those who don’t believe it ever was, including, sometimes, you.

but I know that

It could have been.

It should have been.

 

(this is an updated, rework of a poem I posted two years ago)

 

 

Sunday Evening Sorrow

Sunday evening sorrow

A lonely time, a time in between.

 

The old week has ended,

The new not yet begun.

 

Another ending, freshly felt and remembered in sadness,

Will not end as easily as last week, it continues to linger and hurt, refusing to let go.

 

I am left behind,

Alone with this Sunday evening truth.

 

There is no space

No thought, no warmth.

 

Need is strong but left unattended, neglected,

And words that linger are incomplete.

 

Conversations left unfinished,

With thoughts not expressed or maybe expressed but not received or wanted.

 

It starts and stops,

Comes and goes but comes back only to stop again.

 

How can the coming stop,

But the stopping go on and on and on?

 

I thought there was no separation,

But now I accept that there is nothing to be separate from.

 

The empty space is all that remains within me,

The void was never filled, the dream never realized.

 

One thought had weight and ruled the results,

But mine did not.

 

But isn’t there really only one thought, one truth

One meaning?

 

I just don’t know anymore, I used to think I did, used to feel it in all there was

But now, it is gone and all that is left is the doubt.

 

I want to fight back, regain what I had, what I love

But I can’t. And even if I could, it would be futile; there is no longer another side.

 

What I thought was one is now two.

There is no energy, no anger, only the wanting and needing.

 

And so I sit, just sit on my cushions

In this Sunday evening loneliness

 

And watch the candles burn away the time

And hurt of love left behind.

 

 

 

Rain

 

The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as the

Rain falls in sheets and slides down the roof over its edge in a curtain of water.

Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and

Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.

The sky is lower on rainy days and

Holds us close and grounded.

Sounds are muted and muffled and

Light is  defused in grayness.

But it is not a sad and depressing grayness,

But a soothing and peaceful shade

Full of the necessity of sorrow.

A rainy day is soft and dark.  It begs us to stop, rest and be mindful of our surrounds and loves.

It reminds us to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows

Into a place of inner stillness,

And there remain, content to just be and accept what is.

Other Things Die Harder

I like to think that it is settling down now, fading away, but maybe not.

It is done and yet…

Some things die hard, and

Other things die harder.

The light has gone out so

There is nothing more to see,

Nothing to look forward to, nothing and no one to hold and

Although the disconnect is intentional,

The physical reality has not changed, it has

Not gone away because, after all, I still remain.

My perception of the circumstances has shifted, slightly.

It is based more on the truth now but the intentional disconnect remains the reality.

Is it the same for the other? I think not. 

He has no reason and no meaning to his thinking as it is all based on deception.

He deceived me

And himself and

A life based on lies can hold

No meaning.

Some things die hard, and

Other things die harder.

Because

I write what I feel in the moment.

Some moments I want to hurt you, get even with you for damaging my soul, for

Rearranging my view of what is right and poisoning my long held faith in people and in myself,

You had no right, or reason, to do that…

And a moment later,

I want to hold you and

Never let you go.

One moment I feel that maybe some of it was real,

The next I am relieved that you don’t care and never did.

Sometimes I can’t picture your face,

Other times it is all I can see.

My eyes still fill with tears at the sound of your songs,

And my body longs for your touch.

I have met other men,

Some are interested and interesting.

There are days when I think I can,

Maybe it will help.

But I can’t,  then I think

In the dark maybe I could pretend,

See your face instead of his.

But I’m not an actress,

He would know, I would know,

I haven’t the heart.

So the moments of loving and

Hating continue,

Rising and falling.

Heart strings pulled by fate like tides pulled by the moon.

My heart wants to break the rules and tell you

That I want to hold you,

But I am afraid of you, afraid I will be consumed by you,

With no hope of survival as

The surrender would be complete

And “I” would be lost, forever…

These moments of love and not continue to oscillate as

6 weeks turns into 6 months,

Into 6 years, into a lifetime of memories,

And loss and missed chances, of dreams and hopes unfulfilled

Yet profound in their potential tenderness.

So sadly, in the peace of early morning silence, I accept and understand that my heartfelt connection to you across the vastness of time and space

Is the only part of the “us” that never was that will forever remain.

 

 

My Heart and Me (re-post, originally posted in March, 2015. One of my favorites.)

What is it with my heart?

Doesn’t it understand?

I said I was done.

I can’t have what I want and need.

Besides, he is no good for me,

He just used me and threw me away.

So what about all that doesn’t

It understand?

There seems to be a separation,

Me from it, just as my thoughts are from the inner me.

A disconnect,

It has a mind of its own.

“I’m not going there,

I can’t take any more”, I told it.

“Oh yes you can” it tells me,

“You want him, you need him…you know I’m right”

“NO, I can’t… it hurts too much”, but my heart just shakes its head and laughs.

Why doesn’t it listen to me!

Why doesn’t it stop?

Why can’t I stop it, it is mine, after all, shouldn’t I be in charge?

But when I try to take charge, it beats and cries

And slams itself against the bars.

It threatens to stop, to skip town

And leave me behind.

“But I can’t follow you any more”, I tell it,

“You are not to be trusted”.

But still it doesn’t listen and takes me where I shouldn’t go

And then leaves me there alone.

It runs away with me to magical places

That only exists in its mind and makes me hope and want.

And when it is time to come back to the real world,

When the wanting and hoping haven’t worked yet again,

It cries and pleads to stay in the arms of magic,

It doesn’t want to go home, doesn’t want to give up.

And as I drag it along, kicking and screaming,

It curses me for my neglect and disbelief.

So I have to explain yet again that we can’t win, can’t have what we wantand so

Together, my heart and me, we go home, and mourn and cry and hope and dream,

And hold each other tight,

But we never give up.