Wednesday, 26 February 2014

The last goodbye

In the place I swore I'd never be,
sadness reigns,
and the taste of tears,
steals my appetite.

Time is everything.

Placing the dreams in their grave,
mourning each one as they go;
what shape will new ones take?

It's the hardest thing.

The love doesn't die.
It could be easier if it did.
But, god, it's still there and I would take her back in a second,
if it would be any different.
I know it won't.

Fuck, and I know I wouldn't be any different either.
Too much water under the bridge.

I have one of those memories,
that picks up everything,
and sets it in stone.
Every blessing is a curse.

Time is everything.

It was too, too much.
I couldn't give her the happiness I want for her,
I hope she finds it,
this, more than anything.

Even though I wanted it so bad,
the mountain just grew taller.
Perhaps I am smaller too.
Perhaps I'll grow again.

You're supposed to seek hope,
but I'm not ready for it yet.

Time is everything.

Let me mourn what is lost,
what was,
and what will never be.
I loved it so,
I do.

Now is the time for tears.


  1. My first time here, thanks to trolling Rosemary Nissan-Wades column of poets she admires.

    Your view of death in terms of atheism is valuable. The repeated phrase, "Time is everything," giving birth to "now it's time to cry," is so true. Our paths cannot avoid death, not if we are fully human. And every tradition deals with it differently. Me, I say death and funerals and all are for the living, those left behind as the body descends. Tears are a gift; use them as often as needed, right? Thanks so much, Amy Barlow Liberatore, Madison, WI

  2. This poem is filled with so much sadness. I hurt for you. Hope will come again...when it is time. Be well.