Candlelight fills us
Soft warm sounds fill the night air
Christmas gives us hope
Category: hope
Haiku
Winter solitude
Songs sung in silence of faith
God’s love fills the void
She is Not a Quitter
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 echoing 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 a shame 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 weak and there are
Beasts down there in the darkness.
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 because I know she will try again soon in spite of the pain and sorrow.
I have faith in her – she is not a quitter.
Why
Canvas curtains with
Buttons of rice.
Small enclosures
Hold melting floors while
Starched souls stand in the corner and
Their judgments fly.
Half held truths
Debase the morning sky and
Silence screams in my eyes while
Cut grass fragrance pervades my thoughts.
When will it all come together?
When will it stop?
The quiet death
Underwrites my soul while
Soft subtle shapes
Shift and take me with them.
And when the shapes settle, the past becomes the one and only
Place where I can breathe.
But I can’t go back there and all else has failed.
Why did you come back? just to leave again?
Why? Did you forget to take something? I can’t imagine what
There is nothing left.…
The Joy of Simple Solitude
The joy of simple solitude where
There is no risk to my heart, and no chance for destruction of my soul.
I can trust myself here,
I’d never do those things to me.
I love the solitude of evenings spent in front of the
Wood stove, reading and writing where there is
No one to answer to and
No one to betray me.
I am safe with just the beauty and silence of winter’s cold
And darkness for company.
I feel a silent peace from the holiday lights sparkling
In my windows and the feeling of
Love’s glow coming from
Within.
My peace is what I will make it to be,
Warm, safe, beautiful and right.
It is all I need for now,
This joy of simple solitude, however,
I am not fooled —
There is nothing simple about it.
One Can Only Hope
The white-hot anger
Has begun to fade.
It is fading to an
Orange glow
A perpetual reminder,
A caution flag.
Reminding me to beware
To stay strong and protective of my heart.
I am still in shock
Shocked and dismayed over his
Ability to deceive, manipulate and then
Attempt to justify his actions.
He claims to accept responsibility but it what way?
Does he apologize?
Does he express remorse or compassion
For the hearts he has destroyed and crushed, hers and mine?
No, he turns the situation into a dramatic opportunity, an excuse to project himself as a victim, a victim of his own deceptions.
He texts me and she in the dead of night to call us angels and
To tell us he would die without our intervention.
As if we and everyone around him exist solely for his
Benefit, again, as always, it is all about him.
The level of his hypocrisy and continued self-delusion
Is staggering.
He seems to think we can protect him from himself.
It is a sad and deluded state in which he exists.
The other woman, the one he lead me to believe was a psycho bitch, is in
Actuality a lovely and loving beautiful soul.
He says there has been drama with her in their past
And now that I know his truth and see what he really is
Any drama that may have occurred is totally understandable.
If his guitar had been available this weekend, I would have run it over with my truck!
The irony of this situation
Astounds me.
His cries in the night for love and acceptance no longer
Move the hearts of the two women who truly do love him.
His lies and manipulation have destroyed
What he wanted and what we were willing to give to him.
This situation has drained both she and I physically and emotionally.
So my new friend, it is time to put it and him away.
Time to try and fill his space in our hearts
With other joys, joys that will not disappoint and betray us.
Be kind to yourself and fill your life and heart with all that you love and
All who love you and I will try and do the same.
Hopefully we will both soon find other hearts willing and able to love and cherish ours
In a way that he is incapable of.
I feel sorry for him but sorry in a strong way, not as a weakness that will enable him
To ease his way back into my heart, soul and bed.
Sorry in a way that will allow me to feel compassion for him
And his sorry state of being,
In a way that will allow me to be hopeful that someday he will understand himself and
Will stop trying to manipulate those around him and will just let things be as they should.
A time when he will be comfortable enough within himself and love himself enough
To truly be able to love another.
A time when he will recognize and accept with an open and true heart the
Joy he has spent a lifetime looking for and will understand and see that
It is a joy he has already been given by a number of good and kind women but one he
Has betrayed each and every time.
Maybe that knowledge and truth will prevent him from doing it yet again,
One can only hope.
Why I Cry
He doesn’t cry for me,
He cries for himself.
The magnitude of the pain he has caused
Makes him uncomfortable.
He can’t believe he is
Capable of such unkindness, it is not his way.
He is not a bad person,
Confused perhaps, but not bad.
He tries to love everyone and
In theory that is a great and noble way to live and so
His aura glows, his eyes speak kindness and
His soul shines through with good intentions.
I think he is capable of all the those good things, they are in his heart,
But he is also a man, just a man.
A man who has had to suffer the injustices of this society,
Who has had to endure heartache, broken dreams and all the other issues life has thrown at him.
He is not immune to pain or mistakes, and
It is unfair to expect him to be.
But being merely “human” does not give anyone license to
Hurt another human being, intentionally or not.
I don’t write these lines to hurt him,
To point out his faults – I have as many.
I write these lines for myself, to try and make sense of this heartbreak
This soul devouring sadness, but as hard as I try …
I cannot hate him; it would be easier if I could.
My love for him is too strong and fills my heart; there is no room there for hate.
But he already knows all of this, he knows what I think, what I feel, who I am
And somehow that makes this hurting worse, precisely because he did know all along…
So, did I expect too much of him? Expect him to be something he’s not, to live up to my standards? I don’t think so.
He is capable of being all that I envision him to be,
All that he wants to be and more,
And that is why I cry for us both.
Candlelight, Soft Love and Raindrops
I hear the rain in the early morning darkness,
It’s sound muffled by the closed windows and leaf blanketed forest floor.
But its soft sound is enough to keep me awake,
Awake and day dreaming of happier times.
Of times when the sound of the rain brought sweet contentment and thankfulness
For its life giving qualities to my mind.
A time when it was summer’s refreshment,
And the garden sang in gratitude for its warm sweetness.
But now, as I sit here on my bed at 2:00 am, alone in this November darkness,
The droning on the roof only serves to remind me of our separateness,
Our aloneness and isolation, one from the other,
With the sound of the rain our only connection.
This simple connecting sound brings me to thoughts of him and
I picture him in his room,
Lying beneath his white down comforter,
While the rain drops roll in rivers down his bedroom windows.
The rain’s sound is amplified by the sloping eves of his bedroom ceiling where the soft flicker of candle light dances.
The memory of the warmth of his body lying next to mine takes my breath away.
I can feel his long lean limbs, light but strong, wrapped around me in complete trust
As together we sleep as one, our separateness abandoned and replaced by a union of warmth, safety and love.
But slowly my day dream fades and reality comes seeping back to me in my empty bed and
The sound of the rain outside my window becomes the sound of my tears.
Although the scene in my mind fades away into the darkness of this November night,
My thoughts stay with him.
And as I try once again to lose myself in the healing peace of sleep
I become aware of the missing sound of my heart beating in my chest.
It seems my heart has left me and has chosen instead to stay behind in my day dream with him.
But I don’t feel betrayed or upset with its abandonment for
I cannot blame it for wising to remain in the sweet memory of candlelight, soft love and raindrops, I understand – it is my wish as well.
The Cold Light
The early morning silence speaks to my soul.
It calms my heart and lets my mind wander back to a warmer time,
A time of love and light. But as the dawn draws near,
The night’s soft callings fade and take my sleepy hope with them.
As the horizon brightens, my heart, that was held close in sleep,
Stretches and yawns back to wakefulness.
A wakefulness to the reality of losing him again,
And the pain and longing is felt anew.
If only night’s magic and sleep’s
Fantasies could survive the cold light of dawn.
Be Still … Let It Catch You
He seems sad inside, an unhappy place.
There is a war that rages within, the sides are undefined.
His light has to fight to get out, and it turns cold in its struggle.
He is alone but his loneliness is crowded.
There is no room in his heart, it is full of useless memories,
Wasted space, rooms of used feelings, empty promises, broken dreams.
Nothing belongs only to him, just his, only his.
He tries to be universal, but his soul is battered and sore.
He dreams and wants but denies himself,
He holds tight as he pushes away, searching,
Always searching and seeking,
Stop… be still…let it catch you.
I can’t fix him but I can
Hold him and love him while he mends.
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