sometimes, I step up very close to photos of him that hang on the wall, frozen smiles, magical moments long gone and empty now...and I whisper that I miss him. I stare deep into his eyes.
what I want is to feel something like stable.
to believe I know who I am and where I am going
to trust that this lonely journey is not meant for me alone
we all have a path to walk. I am so damn grateful to have had the chance to have him by my side for the last part of his life. I so desperately and sincerely HATE that "the last part of his life" came so fucking fast. Too fast. Not fair. Nothing is fair. Who can truly stand in judgement, telling me that things happen for a reason? My kids will grow up without their dad. The reason is that we haven't cured cancer yet. That's the reason. Nothing else.
I sometimes feel so strong- moving forward, laughing, working, trying, doing...but that feeling doesn't last. There is too much to keep up with, too many moments filled with decisions I would have turned to him for bouncing ideas off...there is a certain autonomy in making the decisions myself. But there was such a comfort knowing I had him to help with the processing...
none of this is doing my thoughts justice right now.
There is an automated rake that claws its way across my heart
there are earthquakes in here
cracking, tilting, bending things that shouldn't bend
there are ghosts, whispers, demons
ashes with bits of bone
Your one and only- I'm worthy to be that...
and it does not matter
because there are no miles to walk
I can't pretend I might
to belong to someone else.
that rake that stabs and wrenches, bearing bone and blood
bringing to the surface
makes every judgement call
I am solitary, soulless
wandering the desert sea
blinded by the light
delirious, bewildered, unwilling to lay down
unaware of the distance to
burned and broken and lost
beyond all belief...
I am learning to pray. Not to any sort of god
but there is energy
all around us, in the sea, the desert, lost in the woods
in an empty high school math class
standing on stage, trembling before an audience with no words prepared
deep in the depths of even everything broken
there is energy. why not reach out for it?
why not beg and ask for help? Open the doors
to your dry and dying heart...
will fill you, or not.
The asking breaks nothing