Poem #27

I long to understand, I need to understand
When it started, I was so young
The beginnings I can't recall
but the middle and the end, I know too well-

 

The slow ebb of darkness
punctuated by my confusion & fear
How does a child begin to grasp.
the crumbling of a relationship so fast

 

Now I am older, I have children of my own
I no longer see with a child's eyes
and what I see has taken me by surprise
what is truth, what is fiction?

 

The truths I thought I knew
things I had never thought through
things remembered now
seems to make sense - but how?

 

I still can't process the hate
the hiding in my own room - the horrible wait
until I thought it might be safe
to go about my day - not having to get out of the way

 

I used to try to decide
on whose team I should reside
now I know it takes two
for me - I cannot win - I just lose

 

But why - oh why - did you both let it go
on so long - with us in the way
casualties - collateral damage
innocent bystanders to the marital rage

 

For now we are still fragile
no one knowing what to do
while it is very true
the hurt is very real - my soul far from agile.

 

The pieces scattered far and wide
I refuse to take a side
A new path I will tread
For this is a end is dead

 

I will chart a course
I will learn and grow
for this much I know
I have the power to rise above the sorrow.

Reviews

[Whiles]

this reminds me of "On my Own" from Les Miserable. very poingant

[Elisa]

well the hiccup is a typo which I will fix :) it should read - for this as an end is dead!

This poem I wrote in a series of stages - normally I can sit down and write them start to finish in a short period of time - but this one took a few passes and some serious reflection in between.

[BlakeL79]

It often amazes me when we reflect on our lives, particularly painful memories that typically repressed, how easily we realize what was going on around us at the time. It's interesting in that writers tend to dredge up sorrow so much easier than joy - I will reflect on this. I wonder if those memories are buried deeper and takes more coaxing to surface. Good poetry provokes thought, excellent poetry evokes emotion. You succeed in both.

These lines paint clearly -

Now I am older, I have children of my own
I no longer see with a child's eyes
and what I see has taken me by surprise
what is truth, what is fiction?

The truths I thought I knew
things I had never thought through
things remembered now
seems to make sense - but how?

You also bring reveal the famous conundrum with - "for me - I cannot win - I just lose". Sometimes we find that no matter how we struggle, we only end up hurt even more. I believe the key in these situations is to just let go. The greater the struggle, the greater the loss, the greater the pain, especially when the outcome is something beyond one's control. Your portrayal of such is striking.

While poetry is art, I am curious if this line is correct - "For this is a end is dead". It causes a hiccup in reading.

Once again, the style is well done. It impresses me to no end that your ability to move words the way you do. I even admit to a bit of jealousy, but I enjoy the learning process.