Loneliness at Dusk (re-post from 2015)

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.

The Missing Piece

I am tired,

Tired of fighting myself.

I have improved; I have found a way,

A good and honest way,

But the old ways and feelings

Die hard in spite of what I want.

I don’t want to feel this anymore

I want it to go away – completely.

But I know it never will.

It can’t until I do, and even then…

It has become a part of me,

Not the me you see but

The me I know

And that me doesn’t know how to erase it completely.

There is no erase button,

No permanent “delete” option.

My Being accepts that fact and holds him still,

Not because of me, but in spite of me.

Some days, when I am not aware,

That I am even thinking about him

It breaks through again in silent,

Unbidden tears.

Are they for me?

Or him?

Are they for a way that should have been,

A way that needed to be but wasn’t?

I guess I will never know.

They say it doesn’t matter as it is no more.

It is not present in the now, only in the past.

But I think my Being left a little piece of me behind when it moved on.

It is that little piece of me that still belongs to him

That I miss most.

Darkness

The stillness of the night air

Hangs heavy outside my window.

Its darkness threatens to come in,

But my reading light keeps it at bay, and

Although the light is bright, drips of silent night

Sneak in around the edges of my window sill

And puddle on the floor by the curtain hem

To remind me of the darkness that lurks just outside

My window

And my heart.

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.

 

 

 

 

Dissolved in the Liquid Son

 

Impostors by fate but originally

Miracles at birth.

Now holed up in falsities and

Missing the point.

Unsettled souls reap only what

They sow, they received no gifts and are giving none in return.

No promises are kept, no dreams fulfilled.

Maybe next time they say, but next time never comes.

It is the same ending, over and over and over.

A sadness steeped in familiarity, with

Seduction, for its own sake,

The only prize.

It is a shallow, stagnate prize

But the only reward there is.

It is time to break this spell of soullessness and

Open to the pain and recognition of your deluded being.

Absorb it, take it in and by doing so defuse

Its dark energy.

Deny its claim on you,

Step away from its hold and

Watch, watch as it shrinks

And fades.

Watch it be consumed by the light,

And dissolved in the liquid love of the Son.

Watch it be taken from you

To hurt you no more.

Awaken and feel the light and goodness

Of who God made you to be.

It is there, already in you, see it for yourself

And when you do…

Pain will lose its sting and

Darkness will be no more.

 

 

Always Alone

I’m lying in a hammock, sideways,

Staring at the canopy of trees above my head.

Their branches interlaced like the fingers of lovers in an act of passion.

The trees sway with agentle breeze,

Each variety with its distinct leaf waiving and dancing to its own tune.

Above and beyond the boughs lies a deep blue sky, dotted with plumes of soft whiteness

Each drifting and changing with every second, never the same from moment to moment.

I am watching this scene as the sunlight slowly turns to dusk.

The sun-powered breezes fade and the forest yawns and folds in on itself and sleeps.

I should do the same

But the magic of the transformation of day into night fixes me to this spot.

All form is erased, sky and forest become one, stars twinkle above and fireflies twinkle below as reflections of one another like sky in water.

Buzzing insects sounds are silenced as

A different cast of characters takes on the night shift.

An owl awakens and his hoots ec between the sleeping trees.

I hear the fox’s footsteps through the dry leaves and

Goosebumps cover my neck at the sound of his bark.

Less vocal creatures slink and stalk through the forest night

Taking their turn at life.

And me, I don’t fit.

I exist equally in both worlds but am not a participant in either and

Therein lies my sorrow.

I am only the watcher,

Always alone.

The Right Choice

The well is dry,

My heart is empty,

The cycle is complete.

Nothing left to do but begin again and fill the well,

Stoke the fires of my soul, and

Let its smoke rise and season my heart.

My heart is well seasoned as this is not its first round.

Time and time again it has been smoked with sorrow.

So, it will either become soft and sweet from the fragrant wood chips

Or hard and tough from the endless heat.

The choice is mine, but am I strong enough to make the right choice?

Only time will tell…

Mine to Claim

There is a light in my words.

They possess a divine luminescence

That does not flow from me

But from a much greater source.

A source above and beyond me.

But the other ones, the dark words,

Where do they come from?

They take over sometimes, in spite of what I say I want.

Where does their power come from? Me, him, somewhere else? Someone else?

They seep into my soul unbidden from a place I don’t want to claim as my own.

They weave their webs around my heart and steal my light.

Their thoughts are dark, their meanings are dark, their hearts are black and broken.

I would feel sorry for them if they were not mine.

They are here to control me, to upset my basket of good and light.

They are mine to deny and disown, but mine nonetheless.

To deny their existence or my creation of them would be to deny a basic part of myself, maybe one I am not proud of but an integral part of me all the same.

So now there remains the question of what to do with them, yet again, or with the me that breeds these destructive thoughts and words…

I don’t know.  To shut them out would be to deny a part of me, and maybe invalidate my good thoughts and words as there can be no light without the dark.

But they are heavy words and sink to the bottom of my soul where they lay neglected but never ever forgotten, and never formally put to rest.

Their dark lingers in my mind as it is familiar and known. I know the depths to which they will take me if I let them, as well as the indifference they feel for my heart and soul.

I should stay away from them as they are cruel in their relentless pursuit of my mind and thoughts, in their attitudes of sorrow and despair.

I think I’ll tuck them away in a folder at the bottom corner of my desktop. Out of the way but not forgotten as

To ignore them gives them power, a power over me that unattended can take me to places I would rather not go, bad places,

 Their places,

Dark and heavy places,

But still they remain

Mine to claim.