What if.

Originally posted on Of Love and Loss:

What if I can’t love you anymore?
What if I can’t bear to greet you at the door
What if I can’t kiss you goodnight
What if I can’t wake up to you with a heart that is bright
What if I can’t be excited from your touch
What if I can’t handle thinking about you much
What if you are irrelevant to my day, and
What if I can’t think of any more words to say
What if you love me more than ever before, and
What if I can’t feel the connection any more

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Where am/are I/you?

I sit here
in my warm bed
under a woollen quilt
with the sidetable lamp
illuminating my ipad keyboard
and I wonder
just where am I?

I am in your blog
and my mind and heart
are transported
to Perth
then Chicago
and Moldova
I am there with you
for a moment
with your words
Did you notice me?
perhaps I moved on too quickly
I cannot dwell tonight
there is no energy for lingering
Need to cover some ground
in a burst of energy
that quickly passes
and I am back home again
tired and needing to sleep
Rest for tomorrow
for work, discovery, research
For also doing nothing,
just going along,
listening to all the things you can’t hear,
and not bothering.


(with apologies to A.A.Milne for borrowing words from Winnie The Pooh at the end)

Veins of Sadness.

Grief with sadness
Leaks out in small flows
as it needs to

There is no great dam to burst
and let it all gush out

it is so completely infused into me
that only small traces
can seep out at a time
transude through the rest of me
So as not to rip out
the very fibre
of who I am

So comfort me
and accompany me
but never push or force

Looking Back.

I feel that my life has been influenced greatly by decisions made as a child
Almost subconscious decisions
based on reactions to what was happening in my life
during early school years.
Hindsight says that those decisions were probably not helpful for me
in the long term view of my life
But there is no criticism in that assessment
only an acknowledgement that
I am here now, following on from my past
And I may choose to direct myself in different ways now
with the aid of this observation.

Extracted from that Bubbling Under The Surface.

Denying feelings
that scare me
they are painful
and scream out for life to be different -
as scary as the feelings
Everything terrifying
draining -
Pushing against these emotions
these beliefs
They are as real as the skin of my hands
that ball into fists
ready to -
Come to blows
Beat myself into submission
“Stop doing that!”
Useless retort.
This is what comes of feeling
don’t do it again
Please just leave me alone
I don’t have the strength
to endure much more
And I’d rather die alone
than in pain