The Place of Grief

The Place of Grief

When I woke
in the day's gray gloom
     I found myself
             absolved of color,  weight,  depth; 
    nothing but a silhouette that ate the light.
                           Dusk incarnate.
I could mingle with the shadows and not be seen;
       consort with ghosts.
Feed upon the grief that grew there like nightshade--
        vines and leaves
     flowers and berries
     filling the corners,
climbing the wallpaper, 
                            small smoky dragon fiends.
She could not see  me;
         had not seen me for some time.
       I had slipped
                     from sunlight to eclipse,
    and now, in this twilight dream,
       I could stand right inside her shadow,
                                  touch her sorrow
                               breathe her grief and tears.

                           I wear her mourning;
                        live with her here unseen--
                        in neither purgatory nor limbo
                             but a monochrome eternity
 longing for daybreak

 waiting for night.

Living in Exile

Living in Exile


Your thoughts in my head,
I see you every moment, past and future.
Somehow time has become
          nothing but a pane of glass I can see
                     but cannot reach through
to touch you
& the longing tears at me,
                     shreds me,
                      leaves me dissolving in my own tears.

The moments of your life
                             & mine
                                            touch

                                but we do not.

(I am assured of that.  You are not here.
                   These thoughts are not yours,
                                      not
 even the ones I know are
                                      not
 mine.
                                      Not
 ever.

                                       It is my overactive
imagination alone

keeping me afloat.)

How is it possible then
                 that I can ache for you so
                 that your voice haunts me?

 Some days (this day) I want my life back.


                     Today is cool & rainy
                          a
counterpoint that day last year--
                   the hot, unrelenting sunshine.
I was close to melting,
                         desperate

trying to preserve every scrap,

buy back every wasted moment

seduced

                         dismissed
 
                                                 abandoned




forgotten

What if I had let my bright smile slip
            had broken down
         sat on the steps & cried
                      begged & pleaded, 
Oh, God, don't make me leave, 
            don't make me get on that plane.
                       Let me stay.
                               Please.
                               Please.
                               Please don't send me away.
                               This is where I belong.


 It makes no sense, but it's true.



Instead I bled away my heart's blood

                                                   quietly

into the hot

            uncaring

                                  air


and left my life behind.