Posts tagged loneliness

Christmas Past

DSCN2231I remember those magical days-

children running in from the bus

to see what new presents

had suddenly appeared under the tree.

I remember the magic of lights-

the “oohs and ahhhs” as the switch came on.

The weeks of “what I want for Christmas”

coming from innocent souls.

Then the chorus of “and that’s all…”

followed by several more favorites.

Yesterday, my babies, my life-

The Joy on their faces, on my face as well.

Today, I lay here alone, a tree with no presents.

Sits in a “living room” no one plays in.

I pick up a sick grandchild from school,

Drive by a graveyard-when one of them lies.

I wonder, today, with life having little meaning,

how those days, when we were so poor,

when those “wants” really did magicially appear.

If it is worth it now, the memories, all I have.

My sick heart pounds, the hot tears roll,

down lonely cheeks as teens tell me

“I won’t be home after school, I have to hurry.”

There are dinner and parties, friends, life.

Please remember, children of today,

that life goes by so fast, that todays’ kids

are tomorrows adults, with kids of their own.

And we, who once were so needed and loved.

Have grown old as my babies grew up.

I put up a tree, as my youngest insisted.

But no joy of a new present  hiding  there today.

Just memories, the awareness of time rushing by…

Like the old Scrooge Tale, it is-

Christmas Past, Present, Future.

I must remember that life moves on, even if

it drags me kicking and screaming.

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Winter’s Fate

She wiped the tears upon her dress.

“I’ll take no more.” She did confess.

As he stood staring at the sky. He whispered to her, “Darling, why?”

“You leave when autumn’s just begun with furs, and grains and many guns. You stay until the melting snow drives you back home, more crops to grow.”

“I must.” he told her, gun in hand. “to sell our furs and crops again.”

“It does not take four months of cold to travel there and back, I’m told.”She glared at him with angry eyes as clouds approached in autumn’s skies.

“But weather makes the trip back home to dangerous to make alone.” She listened not to his protest, and brushed the dust from her worn dress.

“The children need you, so do I.  I cannot bear to watch one die, the way I did this season past, with no one here to help the rest.”

“I know.” He bowed his ruddy head. “I’ll find some other way instead.”

“John Griffith takes the trail nearby.” She told him through her misty eyes.

“Then I will ask if he will go, with me, through ice and cold and snow.” He walked to her, the children came. They gathered there, out of the rain.

“Tomorrow, I will go to town and look until I hunt him down.” He smiled and drew her near his chest.

She felt the heat of his warm breath, and knew this winter, they would stay, but not alone, sick and afraid.

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As Fragile as Glass

Three years ago, I lost my mom.

She had been fading for years, but we still talked,

we laughed and loved.

It seems like since then loss and loneliness

have been so much of my life.

I feel like I am drowning.

After loosing my child, hope, faith,

and that special closeness with my family,

I feel I will never capture the joy in life again.

I can only beg you, young people,

to take that joy, when you find it,

and treat it as thought it was glass, because it is.

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The Loss of Hope

 

I dream of you-your face,your smile, how I cherished it

how it made my soul feel alive, even in the worst of times

and then I realize you are gone-never NEVER do I have

the slightest hope of seeing you, touching you again.

 

I wonder how many times I can die-drowning in this pain?

 

And I dream of those still here, yet so far away

wonder if I have any more chance of touching them, loving them

than I do those who lie among the flowers on the hill…

 

Hope-sometimes it dies because life has stolen it

and you don’t know why or how to fix it, even though it could be- somehow

and sometimes it dies when hearts stops beating.

There is no breath, no life, what was is frozen in time,

all that is left is night, darkness, dreams…

 

I wonder, here, alone in the cold and darkness…

which is worse, the death of hope or the death of life

or is there really any difference?

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sound of silence

simon and garfunkel

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Till Nothing was Left

Image

This poem is not for my precious son, whose death
took everything from me that I hung on to, believed in.
It is for those who can’t  see that I am still here.
but I have been forced to live in a world where there
is not glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m so tired of it all, so tired of the lies.
The further I fall, the higher you rise.

It takes all I have, each moment I try,
I give and I give, till I think I will die.

I’m sorry that I was never enough,
My heart is long dead, the road’s been so rough.

All that I have, I have given to you.
And what have I left?  No joy and no you.

Just leave me here in my prison, my home,
Cause when you are here, I still feel alone.

Not a thing I’ve endured, suffered, survived.
Has helped you to notice,  that I’m still alive.

I still feel, I still hope, I still love, I still try.
Somehow through the darkness, I still survive.

Take just one heartbeat, one touch, one breath,
And remember I will love you till nothing is left.

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Alone

Morning may come with clouds of deep gray.
Or might dawn with azure skies and fluffy clouds.
Dusk may find a sky awash with indescribable colors.
Or perhaps with sky is filled with the softness of gentle snow.
I rarely notice anymore, it doesn’t matter.
My heart, my soul is dead within me.
Without you it is just another time to endure,
Another tear to dry and try to push on.
For so many years, I have endured this hell,
That it is expected, I brace for it, harden my heart.
There isn’t even a word for one who has lost a child.
You aren’t a widow, orphan, divorcee.
No word can describe the emptiness, the pain.
You are simply, forever, alone.

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Autumn Alone

The oak leaf changes to scarlet

and the golden maple leaves tumble down

Softly joining the others in the frosted field.

I remember autumn when you were here,

the peace, the joy of your presence,

The warmth in the growing cold.

From long ago, come memories,

Not of joyful autumns or your touch,

of your hair thrashing in the wind,

but of those seasons –

of this season-

when the world and I saw autumn-alone.

1978

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