September 5, 2012

poem 308 of a poem a day for 2012

so you married into the vagaries of a vagabond

it is not an easy truth
to walk away and
leave this marriage
with children behind
in fact it is the softest
sharp kind of killing
I have ever felt
no, I didn’t seek
to fall out of love
I only sought a way
inside myself

so yes you can
call me a despicable man
and say that I am a bad father
and that you wish this
or that had never happened
but the fact remains
my love can only grow
when I am front and center
in the mirror nearer
the true north of my
heart and soul
so I don’t wish to fight for
or save something
irrevocably broken
like a sieve counted on
as being a bowl
that holds the rain

I’d just as soon cut myself
into a millions pieces
and fall prey to the wind
over and over again
to scatter me as ashes
to take forever to seed
just find another place to bleed
in the quiet desperation
of not being counted on
by you for anything
especially being a facsimile
of what used to be
something other than
a ritual burial
as I keep wishing
as I am reaching
around the corner
that you can find
how to be happy


No comments:

Post a Comment