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.
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
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
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