Tonight, the ache in my heart required bad poetry.  It demanded it as I sat crying on an overlook above the city.  Here’s a bad picture to go with my bad poetry.

photo (64)

There’s a part of me that wants to describe where the poem came from, but really, it’s not that subtle (as bad poetry often isn’t).  The reality is this: my husband is giving 110% of his energy to healing right now and though I have every right to feel empty, neglected and sorry for myself, I cannot blame my emptiness on anyone else.  I would venture to guess that this poem and this post are my Higher Power’s way of reminding me to seek Him to fill the void.

This night, this heart

is a gaping maw

Toothless gums gnashing open

closed, empty

a low gutteral hum whistling through its depths

Even the dusk-filled skyline

holds her flickering dotted gems at arms length

all is unable to satiate

all is hunger, want

why, heart

The sun retreats in a trail of curdled sky

swirling flames put out with his distance, but

not this heart’s desire.

What hopes to soothe it? why

nothing can be made from that

From here, it seems like something quieted by darkness

but really it is not reconciled.

It will wake again, desperate

for things it cannot create, gather, wish

out of this night, this heart