Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Losing You

I am most days okay with the fact I am like this. I am trained. I have the psychology, the philosophy. I even have big chunks of the theology. More than this, I have been in the trenches in AA, quite intimate with realtime recovery as it plays out day to day. I have watched and experienced and can advise and consent with effectiveness.

All that I have written is in place and still I grab hold tightly and must enter the discipline to actually let go. When I lost my last lover, a big piece of me was pretty sure I would not have another. That’s what happened to my mother and I believe she was close to my age when it happened. It is now several years later and I have discovered I neither want to put myself out to get a partner, nor am I willing to settle for less than what I had last, and finally that I am okay living alone even though I believe I wish a partner. If I had another lover, I know that I would grab hold even though I know better. Hmmm.

Losing You

If I look at it
straight on I can often let
you go. Instead I
stuff my cubbyholes
full, in this room and that one,
pieces and things, sure
I dare not let them
leave my space or leave my heart.

But when I get square
with the world I know
I will not lose you like that,
not so easily.

April 28, 2009 3:43 PM


  1. Liked this even though it's sort of sad. I think I'd rather be alone then not have what I lost, until, of course, another "perfect" lover/companion comes along.

  2. Oh, she was never even close to "perfect", even in quotes. She is however more generous a human than anyone I have ever known. She raised two stellar kids and one pretty good kid. She takes care of aging people. She is active at this moment in the lives of two young people, brothers but not her children (though she adopted one of them for complex reasons), making sure they get their higher education, using her own money and time to do so. She is strongly opinionated and if she was less generous she would be a nag.

  3. Not quite sure but the poem and comments brought a smile to my soul. Thank you. I sometimes think I just don't have the energy anymore to make a go of relationships, which is just as well since I seem to suck at them. LOL.

  4. Debra, I am happy whenever I bring a smile to someone's soul. I am grateful to hear that has happened. I would not ever advise against a relationship. I would happily accept a lover should she wander over and we easily connect. I believe the pain of the last loss should not weigh against the possibilities to come. I am ever hopeful. However, I believe that chasing lovers is for the young. This is a life stage thing.

  5. I feel that way too, these days, like I'm done, and I'm too tired to try to create something that will work. It makes me feel old, and I'm not. I hope that feeling will go away soon. It's scary to feel so tired.

    At least you have inspired me again, and I have something to feed my hungry blog before its fire goes out.

    One last time

    The wind runs through this old rag,
    seams worn thin by years of scrubbing
    and the rough, coarse wash.
    Kissed by sunlight, laundry pins
    holding snug to squeaky line,
    yet nothing heals the tangled edge
    of towelling torn by sorrow.

  6. Very Alan Watts...Dont be so hard on yourself...Just be...Good thoughts...thanks for sharing...Ron

  7. Thank you, dear Rachel. This thing we have is just too easy. I don't understand but I accept. I learned this some while back. Accept and let the world say what it is, or not. Much of what feels my best poetry comes as replies to you, or after you reply to me. If not my best, then surely it is the most fun. I think you rise up too.

    What Can I Say Now?

    The letter you sent
    dripped sweat, dampened the papers
    where I laid it down
    and they curled from it.
    I can feel you clear across
    the room where I sit
    musing, what to do?
    What can I say now? I want
    so much that is good
    to reach out, change you.
    I hope you will flower, fruit,
    ripen and break free.

    I'll never say this to you.
    I cannot trust it.
    I do not trust me.

  8. Ron, thanks for caring. At least I think you were offering me the sage advice to lighten up. Believe me, I take that advice when I can. As for the poetry and the musing that goes with it, I write to memory or to fantasy far more often than I do to some pressing need.

    The poem above I composed just now in response to Rachel. It was a poem kind of about what if I was to reply to someone I really really cared about who shared with me like that, something similar to Rachel's poem, say in a letter? What if she didn't know I cared like that? What if she just thought me a friend? I have no one in my life quite like that. I have many women in my life who I enjoy and some I might even want as a lover.

    But in the main, I post the oldest not yet posted poem first, so the poems are nearly a year old before they post now. I favor not posting poetry current on my blog page. I wish the poetic distance. I write the intros the night I post.

  9. Thanks for letting me in on your process; you are kind and helpful to me on my path of writing...some nice existential thoughts for me to ponder...Best Regards Christopher...Ron

  10. Christopher, I love the word play that comes sometimes between our poems; though I can't make it come, I sure do welcome it when it does. It's such a joy.

  11. If she was any less generous, she would be a nag! Brilliant. Always a fine line between characteristics and their true nature. I love how you stuffed cubbyholes and rooms with the bits and pieces of her. Cherish.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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