Monday, April 21, 2008

Just This Night

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I feel the weariness of being alone this night.

It isn’t sadness,
but a longing to be part of the other.

I have no idea who the other is,
but I want to belong.

Just a little.

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Thursday, April 17, 2008


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I think I’ve outlived “The Thing.”
Oh, it’s still there,
always has been and probably always will be,
but it’s reframed.
Looks like –– maybe –– three times the charm.
I’m not angry,
but I’m disappointed
that it ends like this.


I truly wanted to have something
to bridge the gaps,
to complete the unfinished emotions and events.
I hoped to build a friendship
that made up for the hollow years.

We started out with excitement,
promising not to lose each other again.
Gradually, little threads of the relationship
were drawn together
and it looked as if we might be able
to make a bond strong enough
to forge a lasting friendship.

It seems that’s not to be,
for whatever reason.
Because once more
you’ve simply faded from my life.
As I look at the past few months,
I’m amazed that it looks
like it always has before.
Your life gets busy
and you’re consumed
in ways I can only guess
because I’m never privy
to what makes your life click.
The distance is the dagger
that severs the threads of “us.”

I still feel, and probably always will,
that our connection is destined.
But I can’t do it alone
and from a distance
and with only threads.

There has never been time
to weave those threads
into something strong enough to last.

And so, with sadness,
I release my grip on the loom.
I drop the thread
that I’ve frantically tried
to create into a masterpiece.

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Thursday, April 10, 2008

Misplaced Hope

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There is always hope.
Sometimes I have trouble finding where I left it,
but I know it is .... somewhere.
It is often harder to find in the night
when the lights are subdued
and the mind is tired and less able to fend off
the dirty little gremlins that invade my thinking
with muddy footprints of doubt.
Being alone is both treasure and curse.
I’m free to think my own thoughts as I wish.
I’m also captive of my thoughts.
And sometimes in the long nights
those thoughts roam wide and far,
and they carry home to me the brambles and burrs,
as well as the fragrant pollens,
of the fields of my life past and present.
I find myself working harder to find
the rainbow that signifies hope
when the sky is dark.
I always have hope.
I just misplace it sometimes,
especially in the long, dark nights.

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Added 4/22/08:
My faithful reader, My, translated this poem into his/her native Chinese. I'm very honored by this, so I am posting the translation here.


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Thank you, My. :)

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Facing the Threshhold

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The door opens,
and, toes on the threshold,
I stop.
So much lies beyond,
but it is still invisible for me.
I wait.
I wonder.
It’s silly to stand here like this.
There is no turning back,
there is only forward,
regardless of what is there ahead of me
beyond the threshold.
I wouldn’t turn back if I could,
because that part of my life is over,
and every step I take forward leads me to greater happiness,
but still, walking into the darkness is hard.
I’ve walked into darkness every step of my life,
but now I walk it alone,
no safety net,
no emergency lights,
no one to push me on when the road gets bumpy.
Then it occurs to me that every step I have taken
brought me new and wonderful things,
even in the darkness,
and the joy of living my life for myself
is a treasure beyond wealth.
I’m happier now,
facing the darkness ahead,
than at any time in my life.
The unknown always seems dark and sinister,
but grasping it and holding it close
makes it familiar
and wonderful.
Sometimes the safety net
and the emergency lights
and the pushing ahead
were red herrings in my path to happiness.
Now my mistakes are my mistakes,
and my joyful successes are my own.
And the darkness beyond the threshold
cradles a new experience
that is mine alone.
And I step across the threshold into the darkness
with a smile.

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