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.






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.


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.

Those Eyes


Love is an odd thing.

You think you know, and then you don’t.


You say I love you, but who are you saying it to?

The you that you are or the you that you appear to be?


And does it matter? Do any of us know who the other

Is? We think we do but do we – really?


I am tired of trying to figure it all out.

Tired of trying to figure me out, never mind the other…


Those eyes, they look right through me, but not at me.

They look through me to someone else.


But there can be no anger in me for someone not loving me, sadness but not anger.

Such things are not under our control, I wish they were but


I know from experience they are not. We don’t always love the one who

May be the best for us, and we sometimes love the one who may be the worst.


I could never hate the one who is the object of the love not given to me either.

There is no reason to; she has no more control over such things than I do.


There is enough pain in my heart, I don’t need to

Add any more but


What I do hate is deceit, manipulation, crass

Indifference to the hurt that lies can cause.


Truth is always the best way and would have made all the difference,

but some just can’t see that, or maybe choose not to.


And that is their choice to make.

They have every right to their opinion, as I have to mine.


But …


Those eyes…

3:00 am, Blurry Eyed, Movie Watching, Can’t Sleep, Heart Ramblings.

I’m watching a wonderful movie, one I have seen many times but

not for a long time.   “Pretty Woman” so incredibly romantic and sweet but misleading, a modern continuation of the fairytale.  Impossible and at the same time – beautiful.


I grew up believing that love and romance could really be like it is in the movies,


That out there somewhere I would find a man who would love me unconditionally.  But more importantly, one who would not only love me but like me… want me to be happy, want me, period.


Maybe I tried too hard, maybe I shouldn’t have put him and his needs and wants before mine,

Maybe, maybe, maybe…. I’m tired of trying to figure it all out, tired of feeling not good enough,

not good enough for him, whoever that him may be and then, after all is said and done, hear from other people how highly he thinks of me.  Why haven’t any of them treated me that way, why wait until I am gone to say it.


I can’t believe I’m crying over “Pretty Woman” but I am.


What does that mean….


I’m 61 years old, I’m not an idealistic girl, I know what and how life is.


It is hard, people are people, hearts are hearts, pain and love is pain and love… but why, why does it all have to be so hard, why can’t I find one who can share the dream, not perfect but deep, love at its best, when it matters most.


Love like that is almost sad it is so deep, so close to not being, so strong and overwhelming to be uncomfortable, uncomfortable because it is so precarious, so fleeting, so impermanent but eternal at the same time.  We spend so much time on the wrong things, the job, car, house, status, impressing people to get where we want to be. But I don’t care about any of that…


I just want to be in his arms, his, the one who is capable of loving.


I so want to hold him, to wrap myself around him, feel his arms around me, his mouth on mine,  his soul release into my body, his life essence mingle with mine, is it so much to ask for, too much for him to handle, I know… I need to go back to bed .  Too much for me to handle right now too….


Pretty woman is waiting for her knight on the white horse.


I told him what he could do with his horse, but I was wrong, he never had one, ever …