There are still surges of grief
when I hear of you
being somewhere that I’m not.
There are still spurts of rawness
when I think of you
doing things where I’m not.
The emotion rises suddenly
like fizzing, bubbling waves
cresting on sand
then abating
but
ready to come again.
It makes me breathless,
takes me by surprise -
the speedy upswell of feeling
from a deep well
that does not yet seem emptied.
Trying to keep my face calm
expressionless
as the emotion surges within.
An observer could note a twitch,
a saddening of the eyes
as my thoughts turn inwards
and remember that we’re not.

The day of
warm caresses,
hiking, company, coffee.
And —
memories,
memories,
memories.

When you saw me
in the whole of my world,
as mother, daughter,
I felt deeply vulnerable.

When I became a mother,
a role that I cherish,
my husband got me mixed up with his own,
never touched,
emotionally vacated.

The thing is -
I’m also a woman.
A live, vibrant, loving woman.
A tactile, ready to laugh,
always trying, independent, woman.
And you see me.
What a relief.

When I called
I said I needed resolution
When we met
That’s what you gave me

I could see it cost you
When you wanted to hold me.
Your hands reached for me
but made do with air.

We were so short lived
innocent of body but
falling in love is not innocent
when married to others.

Your child needs to see you
And you need him
You will continue
wife of coercive control
and I will let you.

Today I’ve woken
With a calm about me
Tentative tranquility.
I’ll never forget you.

Intuition,
what’s it for?
Pay attention,
it needs more.

Here we go
rollercoaster,
when I thought you were steady.
Steady now, really steady.

You panicked me, you know.
Instant, reflexive,
self blame.
Steady up, steady.

Our children need you
and they need me more
when you’re gone.
Steady, I’ll be steady.

I measure my progress:
receive your news; panic.
Process and move forward.
Steady, actually steady.

If we look at our strengths,
and work on them,
and amplify them,
then we’ll find
we’re an amazing team.

The thing that hurt most
was no touch,
no talk, no intimacy.
Or acknowledgement of my pain.
That coloured my everything grey,
and made my efforts feel futile.
Made our life seem fake.
Pretend.
You settled into a life
of grey subsistence.
When I wanted
all the colours.

I took a walk this morning
in the cooler air
before the hot summer day
kicked in.

Seeking peace
and finding some today.
Surrounded by butterflies,
beautiful golden cloud,
reminder of the joy of life.

Startling a lizard,
chirping birds,
hearing the kookaburra call.
Kangaroo and joey
resting in the shade.

Golden butterfly
waiting on my front door.
Wings flapping a slow rhythm
like a beating heart,
beating for me.

Time to introduce the blessings in life
Two beautiful children.
Small hands,
high lilting voices
Warm (& sticky) cuddles
That light up my world.

Funny little sayings
Pet lizards
Kinetic sand
Violin and karaoke
Cubbies and craft.
Uncomplicated, unadulterated,
unending, not taken for granted.
Love.

For when I forget
and get drawn into pity,
responsibility,
unnecessary accountability.
Again.
He’s narcissistic,
he will take and take
and never be healed.
Don’t forget.

At heart,
it suits him this way.
If he’s not better, then
all attention is on him.
I did enough
I did so much.
Don’t forget.

These trauma responses
that are still arising,
this hyper vigilant stress
at home
when the kids get excited
(don’t get too noisy!)
are the scars.
It was abusive.
No guilt, no more.

Don’t forget.

I panic, stay..
panic, stay.
Panic, talk about it—
and slowly see the trust rising.
Panic—question.
Waver; and discuss.
I appreciate you
for being steadfast.
This behaviour
is because of a wound,
a recently recognised wound,
that stole my trust
and it takes time
to take it back.

Hey
where are we?
It’s confusing.
It’s been this way
for a while now.
You feel better,
you let it out.
Me— wrung out.
Emotional tsunami
no clarity for me.
Was that healthy?
Or extremely un-so.
You want time with me.
Ah the irony.
You want quality time?
Ah the angry.
The angry.

Losing my pallor
my joie de vivre
around us.
Feels like a slow leaching
and a looking at the bones
and we’re trying to add
flesh to them

Up and down
Listen to your heart
follow the joy and
Supplant negative with
memories of the good.
Tend towards the positive.
Plant that black tar
with flowers that
oxygenate, allow breath,
replenish.

This feeling that I’m feeling
Is like a hole
Or a sore spot that I keep poking
Or a memory that I reflexively
bring up
Again and again.

It feels like a disability today
I can’t be a normal human today
I will take one day to
honour what we had,
grieve the loss (again),
note the closure, and,
hopefully -
rise stronger and move forward.

The way that new experiences
can unearth old emotions.
Bring them swooping out into the light
to overwhelm with feeling.
Startling in their strength;
when you didn’t know they were still there, lurking and waiting
to re-emerge.

There was silence there,
papered over with effort.
I think you have a
person-sized hole
in your life
to fill.
I have a person-sized wound
to overcome.
It won’t be overcome
by a silence,
papered over with effort.

You’re emotion-deep,
fatigued,
and another rock
has smashed your way.
You were unfurling
those tendrils of hope
and now—
back in the trenches,
those hospital, chemical,
procedural, trenches.
Back to that holding pattern
when you want to grab life
and shake it,
and adventure it
and laugh with it.
May we be your
uplift, your cloud, your support.
Magnifying your strength,
scaffolding where needed,
helping you lift
to the sunshine, to your future.

My little ones
racing through childhood
at a speed that feels breakneck.
I love your singing games,
piercing recorder at breakfast,
letters to Santa in July.
Your violins, tickle fests,
colourful plastic and tiny drawings.
Room service dessert,
toys instead of shoes.
Your hugs, your love.
Gappy teeth, smooth hair.
That you always pull scissors first —
never rock or paper.
Learning, learning, learning.
That we can find play—
with deep belly laughing
for the three of us,
across our ages.

I feel my strength unfold;
it holds my backbone
straighter,
straightened.

The blustery
wind of emotion
whips back my head and heart.
Anticipated jolt—
and stop.

But start again
slowly brewing
circling this issue
with thorny, prickly needles
persisting in their bite.

My spine is still straight though.
Heart may be sore,
but that strength—
still there, still here.

I’m a survivor
I just didn’t originally realise
that I was in a war.
So I didn’t recognise my bullet wounds.
Until now.

When I feel echoes
of the theatre of war
it triggers
all the trauma
and those hidden wounds
bleed again.

So I work on survival
A proper job at healing
and strengthening.

Tell me your dreams,
float them up high.
I’ll help to propel you
up into that sky.

My head and my heart
Are usually at war
My head wins the first round
And my heart
Settles in for a long
campaign of insurgence.

Spinning, all of the things.
Parental almost-separation, co-habitation.
Salvation?
Siblings and psychiatric hospitals.
Long, warm embraces with you.
Financial disentangling from him.
Baking, trampolines, mandarines
with my little loves.
Weekends snatched with you
tangled in sheets,
tangled in deep
conversation.
And an understanding -
that I'm reeling--
overload of feeling.

What are you wanting?
I’d like to move on
Why are you wanting
Another one.
My heart does miss you
There’s a hole where you were
You awakened my spirit
And now you’re not there.
You’ll answer a call
And tell me you miss me
You’re still in your home
But dreaming of life with me
What am I wanting?
I need this resolved
I can’t do it illicitly  
That bothers my soul.
Almost a year on
And I still feel you with me
I want you to stand up
Take on responsibility.
Make your decisions
Make them out loud
Love me or leave me
Please decide now.
And if you decide,
That you will try loving me
Please know I’m a prize
I wont be so easy
I’d be willing to try
But not throw it in for you
You’d need to earn trust
And that may be tough to do.

Is it all about the money
The petty money
The meaningful money
The symbolic money, money, money?

The symbol of care
The power
The asking
The giving
Withholding.

The emotions swell.
Bring them down,
get perspective,
breathe.

Actually, it’s all about the
children, children, children.

Explaining the feeling
is a task;
hearing the meaning
is a gift.

And so, we’re trying
Trying to see
Giving it a year
For you and for me.

There are things that I love
And I love to see grow
Then returns that splinter
It won’t seem to go.

Your effort is gravity
It draws me near.
Commitment to trying—
music for heart and for ears.

You tell me my trauma
creates so much fear
creates inner dilemmas,
pulls me into its sphere.

So does this make my soul
Light and carefree?
Where am I trying to fit?
Inside you, inside me?

You’re pushing on buttons
that I didn’t even know I had.
Some of them, very sore.
Now I have to look at them
and work out whether I should
turn them off,
leave them pressed,
or remove them completely.

I find some calm
and take a step;
then - wobble a little
and look back.
With another breath
and another day
I step again
into the fray.
This feels like a very big world,
and in it - me, just a girl.
It’s changed so much
since I was last through
It’s spun by so fast
now all is new.
May the steps that I take
lead the right way;
these tentative steps
lead to bright new days.

Purposeful
choices for my time.
Purposeful
choices with my thoughts.
Purposeful
goals for my life.
Let’s herd those
stray, scattergun thoughts
on purpose.

This pressure feels like panic,
contorting like a pretzel.
Opposing forces
pressing in and demanding.

I’m flowing into this
new happy,
so our baggage is
unnecessary.
It’s there of course,
but it’s history.
Be there for them,
not for me.
Don’t pull me down
suffocatingly.
I stay afloat
away from you.

Kernel of
emotional truth.
You’re very
inconvenient.

Trust in you
Trust in me
Trust in we
feels more
achievable today,
accessible today,
unforced.
A gentle welling
in my empty torso.
This one that felt cavernous,
echoing, hollow.
Missing
that vital lifeblood,
this swelling of emotion.

If I see you
what I want to know is
where you are at.
I want to gauge you
by more than words -
by actions.

I want to tell you about me too
I now see, I've spent this life
denying my internal voice.
Doing what my head told me
over what my heart intuited.

I want to be listened to
in my small words and actions
in the small treasures of every day.

You brought alive in me
This feeling that my inner thoughts and musings
are worthy.
Not silly, inferior, or lesser.
I have been living and sharing them
(with my new poet friends) -
it is a great gift.

I didn't know that someone else
would find them interesting
and find them beautiful,
and be able to say:
me too.

You were the first for that.

Snippets of happiness
Full rose heads,
chicken sounds and tickles
grins and giggles
on the trampoline.
Playing shops with you,
cuddling close,
cooking food with heart.
Breathing new life
into me.

The tranquility
of this morning
Feels like numbness tonight
But I still feel
your gift of love
You gave it and
didn’t take it away.
It will keep me warm,
provide reassurance.
I’ll carry its glow
within me
as I continue on.

How deep is this love,
how mature will it become?
Will it flash in the pan,
decisions made rashly,
lives upended?
Or will it burn,
stoked by the twin flames
of friendship and desire?
I’m pulled slowly,
bitten nails clawing,
into the feelings of
buoyancy, trust,
positivity, possibility.
Are my nails clean enough?

I’d do anything
For you, dear, anything
Yes I’d do anything for you…

Would I forget my dreams?
Anything.

Little steps at life,
in the right direction.
Thinking about big pictures,
thinking further than this day.

Little steps at living,
joy in smallest corners.
Opening up my vista,
broad horizon to explore.

Turn it off—
the tv.
That noise,
that mindlessness.
It has no place for me,
and I have no place for it,
not anymore.
It reminds me
of endless, empty nights
at opposite ends of the sofa
Now, when I try
I have no patience,
no interest
in those bright, empty lights.
Let me write poetry instead.

This new search for connection.
This typing, texting,
connecting with strangers
of varying specifications.

The sharing of self
via a void.
Forging connection wirelessly;
supermarket of people.

Laughter, mixed signals,
confidence boosting.
From supermarket models
to love?
We’ll see.
To new connections?
Certainly.

Christmas.
Feelings heaving,
still reeling
from this tumultuous year.
I pretend only for the children this time
Beautiful girls, voices high
sparkling eyes full of magic-
Santa’s been here!

White screen
Blue screen
Incessant barrier screen
On screen
Still there screen
Did you really choose that
Over me?

Here I stand
or lie
or sleep.

All the work to get here,
and the feelings feel
embarrassing,
self indulgent.
I want to hide them,
yet they keep returning.

I’ve worked through an ex.
I’ve sorted the mortgage.
Therapy for the trauma
(The trauma! Ridiculous!)
am out the other side…
still navel gazing.

About the rest of it.
The choices
the job
the restlessness.
Likeability, life purpose.

And just now,  
you’ve made me laugh
and laugh and laugh.
Thank you.

Welling emotion
a rising up.
Am I rushing myself
Pushing myself
Moulding myself
Pleasing yourself
Losing myself.

Is there more to lose
or more to win
now that the feelings
are deepening?

New insecurity
negates surety.
Must take time to find
that light in me.