~
bits and pieces,
lines and creases,
dusty shelves
of storied past;
where could-haves
turned should-haves,
make half-lives gone by.
haunt in our reticence,
expressed in our sigh;
they hide in our silence,
betrayed by our tears,
from missed opportunities
down through the years.
this is no stroll
o’er memory’s lane,
but a pot-holed, hard-roll
on a boulevard unnamed,
where deepest regrets
must defend against shame.
~
i make my peace
by drawing a line,
before it can fade
shifting with time.
i say *“enough!
this far and no more!”*
i give it my heel
and walk out that door.
past the garden,
past the fences,
to the edge of my mind,
resolve saying, “goodbye”
to this pain i have known.
then for reasons unfathomed
i turn at the bend,
to see what i'll miss
as if that place were my friend,
yet that house where i lived
so long and knew well,
was standing no longer,
up in smoke, gone in flames,
now just ashes and bricks
are all that remained.
~
so homeless i felt,
with no place to return.
no basement to bury
the ghosts of my past;
no attic to wander,
no hallways to creep,
no corners to ponder,
no front porch to weep,
lost without home,
now no pillow to sleep.
“please turn around,”
spoke, a voice on the breeze
“there's a new life ahead”
and then, to my relief,
*“you're not homeless, my son;
you’ve a new windowed view!
square your shoulders
to the pathway,
see the journey anew!
in promising thoughts
so hopefully wrought
of brand new can-be’s
that only dreamers can see
these, are your new life
you're not abandoned, but free.
let regrets turn to fuel
build steam from this fire.”*
~
as i turned back to thank
the voice offering these words
i found no sage of advice
but here’s what i heard.
*"offer thanks to your own heart,
to strength buried within.
the matches lay dormant
’til your heart found its stremgth.
the mere act of leaving
was the spark for your fire;
for in striking your new path
your past built your pyre.”*
~
*post script.
after much stirring, much wrestling, we are now with anticipations imagining what will change as we light the fire. i’m excited about the possibilities as we let go.*
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
~
bits and pieces,
lines and creases,
dusty shelves
of storied past;
where could-haves
turned should-haves,
make half-lives gone by.
haunt in our reticence,
expressed in our sigh;
they hide in our silence,
betrayed by our tears,
from missed opportunities
down through the years.
this is no stroll
o’er memory’s lane,
but a pot-holed, hard-roll
on a boulevard unnamed,
where deepest regrets
must defend against shame.
~
i make my peace
by drawing a line,
before it can fade
shifting with time.
i say *“enough!
this far and no more!”*
i give it my heel
and walk out that door.
past the garden,
past the fences,
to the edge of my mind,
resolve saying, “goodbye”
to this pain i have known.
then for reasons unfathomed
i turn at the bend,
to see what i'll miss
as if that place were my friend,
yet that house where i lived
so long and knew well,
was standing no longer,
up in smoke, gone in flames,
now just ashes and bricks
are all that remained.
~
so homeless i felt,
with no place to return.
no basement to bury
the ghosts of my past;
no attic to wander,
no hallways to creep,
no corners to ponder,
no front porch to weep,
lost without home,
now no pillow to sleep.
“please turn around,”
spoke, a voice on the breeze
“there's a new life ahead”
and then, to my relief,
*“you're not homeless, my son;
you’ve a new windowed view!
square your shoulders
to the pathway,
see the journey anew!
in promising thoughts
so hopefully wrought
of brand new can-be’s
that only dreamers can see
these, are your new life
you're not abandoned, but free.
let regrets turn to fuel
build steam from this fire.”*
~
as i turned back to thank
the voice offering these words
i found no sage of advice
but here’s what i heard.
*"offer thanks to your own heart,
to strength buried within.
the matches lay dormant
’til your heart found its stremgth.
the mere act of leaving
was the spark for your fire;
for in striking your new path
your past built your pyre.”*
~
*post script.
after much stirring, much wrestling, we are now with anticipations imagining what will change as we light the fire. i’m excited about the possibilities as we let go.*
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