My Contrary Heart
Preface: I have so many mixed emotions that I don't know where or how to settle. One or two would be a relief. The following is an attempt to sort.
*Sick, Dying, Gone, Goodbye (Me vs. Them)
Me, One month. I have kept It together long enough to get through two Services from Hospice from Hospital. I have comforted, reassured, explained, guarded, focused, dutifully received, and hosted.
I am ready to cut off the world, to bleed alone. Reclaim my time to reflect.
They, now. Pityful glances look like twisted masks. They ask for a report and hope for good news to sooth their worries. So they can get back to their lives. Thankful its not them who is cut, bleeding, alone.
*I don't know myself, him, anymore. (Him vs. Me)
I want to rage where I once had peace. I want to push away those I once drew close. Who am I? Who am I?
A stranger stares back at me from his photograph.
I read his poems, letters, journals. hanging on the scraps of paper in conversation my greedy heart devoures every word. Mine. Mine. I read with envy the synergy in the relationships he had before me. Not mine. Not mine. Who was he? Who was he?
*Occupying space. (Now vs. When)
I see him where his pillow lies on the bed. I see him in the office to do list. His shadow still casts on the kitchen floor. Too soon. Not ready.
The house is theirs. Not mine.
His things will be packed the reminders hidden from sight. Too soon. Not ready. Whose rooms will console my heart. Not mine.
*Friends. (His vs. Mine)
I seek to meet with him once more through the memories of his friends. I strive to bridge the gap he left between us, reaching farther than ever before! Their offering overwhelms, comes on like a flood then dwindles.
Leaving me desperate, lonely. Stunned with the realization that no one shared our mind, that is: mine, without him, now.
So alone. My friends clamour to prop me, distract me, content me. I can't. It wont work. More time. Please wait. I can't be what I once was. I receed.
*Sick, Dying, Gone, Goodbye (Me vs. Them)
Me, One month. I have kept It together long enough to get through two Services from Hospice from Hospital. I have comforted, reassured, explained, guarded, focused, dutifully received, and hosted.
I am ready to cut off the world, to bleed alone. Reclaim my time to reflect.
They, now. Pityful glances look like twisted masks. They ask for a report and hope for good news to sooth their worries. So they can get back to their lives. Thankful its not them who is cut, bleeding, alone.
*I don't know myself, him, anymore. (Him vs. Me)
I want to rage where I once had peace. I want to push away those I once drew close. Who am I? Who am I?
A stranger stares back at me from his photograph.
I read his poems, letters, journals. hanging on the scraps of paper in conversation my greedy heart devoures every word. Mine. Mine. I read with envy the synergy in the relationships he had before me. Not mine. Not mine. Who was he? Who was he?
*Occupying space. (Now vs. When)
I see him where his pillow lies on the bed. I see him in the office to do list. His shadow still casts on the kitchen floor. Too soon. Not ready.
The house is theirs. Not mine.
His things will be packed the reminders hidden from sight. Too soon. Not ready. Whose rooms will console my heart. Not mine.
*Friends. (His vs. Mine)
I seek to meet with him once more through the memories of his friends. I strive to bridge the gap he left between us, reaching farther than ever before! Their offering overwhelms, comes on like a flood then dwindles.
Leaving me desperate, lonely. Stunned with the realization that no one shared our mind, that is: mine, without him, now.
So alone. My friends clamour to prop me, distract me, content me. I can't. It wont work. More time. Please wait. I can't be what I once was. I receed.
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