The quiet house,
the missing kids,
the absent dogs,
your choice.

Where once we had a home,
Now we will have houses.
Bodies shuttled between.
your choice.

Peals of laughter,
The funny sounding bark
Shared by all but gone.
your choice.

The smell of family meals is gone
The stains upon the stove cleaned
The in-joke of smoke alarms absent.
your choice.

Finances are yours, independence at hand
Consuming the new needs to replace the old
Goods will not be lacking (but will they fill the hole?)
your choice.

The silent bed in your house
New mattresses to be tried.
Grinding and easy pleasures abound (but are they hollow?)
your choice.

The absence makes the heart grow fonder,
A lack not chosen but forced.
The space when love has left the we but not the family
my choice.

I will swim in paternal warmth,
And blow upon the deadened embers
A flame of love will be in my home
my choice.

Yelling will be absent,
Comfort given and not sought,
Bending to needs and not offering things.
my choice.

Food is quick but made with love
Eating is a time to share
Dining is relaxing and not a performance
my choice.

Love is spending time and not money,
Absent the pain of undelivered diamonds
Attention and a love of being and now
my choice.

My bed echoes with trust and tenderness
I will wait for those sounds to die away.
My sleep for now is love and fatherhood.
my choice.

When the shadows deepen, the light is that much brighter.
When joy is scarce, how much more beautiful the laughter?

Unhappiness hangs like a wet, heavy fog
Coating any random happiness with salty tears.
It hovers just above the ground
Snuffing every little hopefulness that glows.

Unhappiness is as silent as a winter’s dawn
That muffles all the birdsong
And the wake-up call of crickets,
And turns the beating heart into a drum.

Unhappiness is as painful as a
Finger slammed shut in a car door,
Where no blood streams out
But turns to purple underneath the skin.

Unhappiness is insidious;
Growing in the half light of depression
Like mushrooms in a lonely cave
That one really knows is there.

Unhappiness is as heavy as a cross
Laid across the shoulders of your heart
As you struggle up the endless hill
That suddenly appears before you.

Unhappiness is a dozen little ills
That mock your efforts to be healthy,
That burrow like a worm into an apple
And curtail the slightest possibility of joy.

Unhappiness is my middle name.
ljm

Scar to the body
Heals but never goes unseen

Scar to the soul
Never heals but never is in sight

like hemlock tea, my presence hard to swallow.
breathing me in is wysteria, the air around me is poison.