Watching the rain
Stream past the balcony
Dripping from
Lampposts
Below me…
I feel the absence
Of you
And I embrace
This peace..
No slamming doors
Or breaking dishes…
No raised voices
Or near *constant* weight
Of disappointment
…never enough…
…always too much…
I feel another wound
Stitched closed
By glimmering
Threads of rain
Under a cold
Gray sky
Another layer of fear
Washed away in the storm.
I sat tonight
Reading Frost
By the dim light
The taste of cranberry
Across my tongue
As I sipped my drink.
The cold November wind
Biting my neck and
Blowing my hair
In my face.
The soaring voice
Of a violin in my ears…
In this moment…
Content…
To let my spirit
Soar and plummet
With the notes,
Sad when the music fades…
Buoyed again
When mesmerized by
The dance of the trees…
The wind their
Loving partner.
I tried to read
The greats tonight
Leonard, Angelou,
Poe, Frost…
But it is my own voice
Too loud in my ear
That sets me
Quivering –
With loss, pain,
With fear remembered
And love…lost…
I tried to smile
Around this ache in my chest,
but each one
Shattered
Hurting my face.
The clouds are moving
Too fast tonight
Ghosts against
A black sky…
And the breeze
Doesn’t invite
Doesn’t caress…
Instead… alienates.
There is a wrongness
And I feel
Cornered
Not romanced –
Caged…silenced…
Grief-choked.
No song tonight
On the symphony
Of wind
Notes all soured
By this aching
…this pain…
This ground under
Boot-heel feeling
…abandoned…
Alone in the dark.
Languid, half asleep, in morning hours
I hear your voice…
Half-finished conversations
rushed conclusions
hasty goodbyes…
And I turn over …
again, searching for sleep –
wondering where dreams begin
only to end again… and why.
Thoughts blow like November winds
through my mind
prickling my skin
and bidding me dig deeper
into the covers to seek
my comfort there…
to find surcease from the black
loneliness that sometimes
threatens in the early morning hours
absent your voice…
I am treading water here..
riding the black waves of fear
and despair, trying
not to drown, but
to rise up on that current
and find my hope
my center
my self
and SWIM…
One day I will
hear a noise in the
dark and will not fear…
will not stop
*breathing*
to listen for
his footsteps…
but will, instead
pause, to hear
your voice calm me…
and listen for your lullaby..
my November wind…
whistling past the window…
lulling me to sleep…
I still feel the
absence of that
small gold band
missing from my
finger – yet the
weight of it
is so heavy
carried in
my heart.
I am drowning in
the dreams I once
held dear. Hope
of happiness and
passion and a family
unbreakable… immutable…
yet… now utterly broken
shattered beyond
any hope, any trust
any love…
I have no hope
of you anymore…
This weight on my finger…
the absence of you..
now it feels like
freedom.
The darkness of the
shadowed wood
calls to me…
my will-o-the-wisp..
drawing me out…
drawing me in…
I hear your voice
there…beckoning me…
Step deeper.
Go further.
Come to me…
and step by step
I comply…
somnambulant
in my capitulation
yet… somehow
willing
to walk into the dark
-unafraid.
There is a symphony
all around me
that haunts me,
romances me,
bouys me… lifts
me to unforseen
heights and
somehow…
sits with me
in the low places…
lighting the dark
…showing me
the way home…
I hear melodies
in the grass, the leaves,
the whispering wind,
the etherial
beauty in the
song of the stars
full of longing
and an ever-
reaching hope…
dark, mysterious,
beautiful…
home.
The winter-shorn
trees scratch calligraphy
against the sky and
I strain my eyes
to see what
truth lies there.
Straining my ears,
I listen to the
whispering leaves
and wait
breathless
for the words
they speak.
My heart
yearns… longs
to know their
secrets… to feel
their comfort.
To be swept away.
A brittle leaf on the
October wind.
captivatingbitter 