And so the dark night passed,
and I awoke with new hope…
and then this morning at breakfast
my daughter was unkind.
Eight years old and
knows exactly what to say
to poke at the most tender spot.
I’m glad you’re not coming
with us to Utah.
I was devastated,
hurt and angry…
and without the resources
to be skillful.
I asked if she wanted the other woman
to be her mother.
A most definitive NO was her answer.
It seems the joke is on me.
As much as I try
even a child can break me.
It’s easy to do when my life was shattered
in so many pieces
and my tears are the only glue I have
to hold them together.
I wonder if I’ll ever again
be put back together in one piece.
When will I feel whole again?
Deep in it.
Down at the very bottom.
What happened to me?
They tell me to hang in there;
I don’t want to.
You have to just let go
they keep telling me.
I think really
IT needs to let go of me.
IT has its hooks in me.
I want to be free.
I want to feel alive again.
I don’t want to be angry,
hurt, sad or depressed anymore.
I want to set my life in order.
I want my home to be organized.
I want to have work
that allows me
to support myself and my children.
I apply for food stamps
because my money is all gone.
I get angry when I think about this.
He left our marriage,
and has moved on.
Now he spends his time
and his money on another.
Yes, I want to let go.
It got me again today,
creeping up slowly
and then suddenly taking hold…
the depression was back,
and there was nothing
I could do about it.
Everything made me cry—
seeing families together,
imagining myself alone
in the midst of all these people.
I even cried at Chili’s
when I took the kids there
for a birthday lunch for my daughter.
After all this time
and all of these practices, I’m still wondering
When will this pain stop?
I have to work hard to stay clear,
present, awake, open.
When my beautiful children mention going to dinner
to celebrate their dad’s birthday
with the other woman,
when they say her name,
I just want to vomit.
I want to stomp up and down
and scream out
THIS ISN’T FAIR.
But I’m attending two 12 step meetings
every week now,
and I know enough by now
to turn this one over to my Higher Power.
Now God, show me how to contain myself.
Show me how to be an adult.
Show me how to forgive.
Show me what to do with this sadness.
I give up.
Now can you take this pain away?
My precious ones are back with me
and home feels like home again.
I am struck by the stories they tell.
We met Dad’s girlfriend.
Her cats’ names are Chubby and Skinny.
We had ice cream.
We’re all going out to dinner for Dad’s birthday.
And I realize that the biggest loss of all
may be the loss of the shared experience of family.
We used to do things together.
We used to be a family…
and now we’re not.
I still can’t believe it some days.
Some nights I still reach for him
thinking he’s still in bed with me,
but he has been sharing his bed with another
Somehow I still love him.
What do I do with this?
Today’s prompt asks us to write a poem that engages all five senses. Hmmm. Alrighty then.
I reach out for you in the middle of the night still.
You were there for years, but now you are not.
The sound of your snoring,
even your breath in the morning,
how much more would I have savored those
if I knew what was coming?
I remember your hairy belly.
Isn’t it silly,
these things that stay in my mind?
I remember running my hand
on your tummy, loving the feel of you,
your warmth; I suppose it’s unkind
to do this to myself, to remember like this.
But do I have a choice?
I can feel the sadness now in the back of my throat,
the tears that want to come.
I can taste those uncried tears,
their bitterness, my fragility.
Now you are with her,
and I include you both in my forgiveness practice.
So many have told me to let go,
to focus on me,
to be my own best friend.
But what to do when nothing feelings like home anymore,
when I am a stranger to myself,
when the most familiar things are the memories
growing fainter with each tear that falls?