I brought one book with me this weekend. It is a book of poetry that grabbed my attention: “100 Poems to Break Your Heart” by Edward Hirsch. Maybe an odd choice as I clearly don’t need my heart broken any further, but I am really enjoying it. Hirsch compiled poems from the last two hundred years from all over the world and then does a literary breakdown of them….which would be hell on Earth for some people to read, but my English Lit brain loves it. In his introduction he says “Poetry companions us. Poems are written in solitude, but they reach out to others, which makes poetry a social act”….”We become less isolated in our sorrow, and thus are befriended by the words of another.” LOVE that!
This poem has been writing itself in my head for the past 24 hours…insisting that I spit it out on a page.
I come to the place of past happiness Alone When I arrive the night air is nippy and Dark I open the door and am welcomed by sweet Warmth I thought this place would bring sadness coming Alone Instead I feel like I am able to breathe to Exhale I wrestle the cork out of my wine bottle and Sigh My physical body is spent my spiritual body Exhausted I turn down the duvet on the double bed and Balk I pilch the pillows and a blanket and shuffle to the sofa Solitary Sleep The sun rises in the morning in breathtaking Beauty A solitary green heron watches with me in Stillness I wonder if it’s the same one I saw when I was not Alone I shift and it startles gives me one last stare and Soars The steam from my coffee cup rises in the Cold My nose is nippy and I wish for your warm neck to Nuzzle I sit and ruminate on the nature of being Alone How to find elusive peace and happiness in this unwelcome Solitude My toes and fingers have now joined my nose in the nip I seek warmth Inside I take refuge in my makeshift nest of blankets and pillows seeking Comfort One thought is blaring above the rest who am I Now Before it was easy as a beloved mother and Wife Now a new unwelcome me has intruded named Widow The counselor says through grief there is a Transformation I loved the me I was before when we were Us This transformation sounds tenuous and Painful I want to retreat back into my cocoon and Sleep I feel like fading into forever except I have a crucial role as Mother In the evening I build a fire and feel the Heat A lone seagull sits and screeches shrilly Calling I feel like we are kindred spirits on this earthly Plane The lake is calm also holding secrets in its Depths The fire burned hot and fast now Dying The wood turns first to coal and then to Ash My mind imagines another fire a Pyre Your body like the wood first coal then Ash I struggle to rise anew as a phoenix out of the Flame