Showing posts with label yearning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yearning. Show all posts

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Excerpts 7

The Excerpts series are poems that are written directly from dreams. If I can remember them clearly enough to write them I feel there is a significance to that. Whether or not there is dialogue is the deciding component in them becoming part of the series because generally the dialogue, which is always minimal, is where the message is for me. Really they are just stories, things that I dream into being.


 
"Yes, dear"
 
 
As we moved through the house
we passed and open bedroom door.
There were many characters moving about this place
but these three caught my eye.
They lay together across the bed
in middle of the light of day.
But it may have been night, hard to tell
there was no telling time in this place.
He was a dark shock of wavy hair
face down on the pillow.
She in a mask, to keep out the light
golden hair and manicured toes.
Between them a child lay fast asleep
like a wall dividing them.
She cried, “this light will not let me sleep”
he mumbled, “yes dear, I know”.
I encountered them often during my stay
always together as three.
Moving about the daily routine
the function and conformity.
You could see her staring wistfully
across the street from the front yard.
As he performed some mechanical task
she painted pictures in her mind.
The child always oblivious, just happy
that they were all there.
And maybe that was the reason
like being caught in a snare.
In the kitchen I heard them again
she, speaking in hushed tones.
“This ache in me is gnawing
chewing away at my bones.”
I was unsure that the words
were even loud enough to hear.
As if on cue, he answered her though,
in that monotone voice, “yes, dear”.
She met me eye to eye
more than once throughout my stay.
In this strange little house with too many rooms
and so many stories to tell.
I couldn’t understand why they were here
this oddly made family of three.
Her eyes kept pleading to tell me
was she simply waiting for me?
Waiting for me to ask
waiting for me to hear?
Or did she just need someone to listen
without the reply, “yes, dear”.
 
 


Tuesday, July 30, 2013

The Art of Dying


I believe I’ve mastered the art of dying

slowly chipping away pieces.

the jagged parts disconnected

the lines no longer touch,

I’ve believe that I have conquered sadness

I’ve got this one mastered too.

dwelling in darkened places

speaking words of pain.

I know I’ve become despair

on every level of who I am.

at one time or another

it has even been my name.

I’ve learned to cry myself to sleep

in the absence of any sound.

at times it’s been the only voice

that I have been able to find.

I’ve taken to singing in a mournful wail

when my heart just can’t form a smile.

again, at least the sounds come out

they are the only ones I have.

I know what it means to grieve

endlessly day after day.

to be wrapped so tightly in desolation

you flinch at another’s touch.

I know what it is when that touch never comes

and the ache that emanates from my skin.

I wear it like a garment

until it becomes who I am.

I’ve become an expert at all of these things

I’d like to learn something new.

I’d like to learn to smile

from somewhere deep inside.

I’d love to be able to laugh

without any other feeling attached.

not ‘until’ or ‘because’

but to simply feel joy.

I yearn to fall in love

with someone who truly sees me.

someone who actually hears what I say

not just who they need me to be.

I want to give my heart

openly without fear or regret.

I want to trust again

it just seems an impossible task.

I’m tired of being broken

tired of being torn.

of constantly trying to hold together

something that may never be whole.