She never said anything out loud,
the words seethed under covers.
She spoke with her eyes,
with her air her
fist mark left to be found in a pillow.
When there was something to be said
there was nothing she could say,
so she didn't speak in anger
as she didn't speak in joy
that first time I said, Love,
just smiled and turned
the flowers on the bedspread to a heart.
8 comments:
your poetry lights me up.
as do trees....
as well as monkey droppings.
Maybe we will be truly evolved at the point when someone says "I love you" we can respond with a sincere "well, yes you do" rather than all the myriad of things we feel we are supposed to say. I am beginning to believe that sentiment we search for and label as "love" is really closer to "understanding".
To speak or not to speak, that is the question. If we do not speak due to fear or withholding, then we create poison in ourselves. If we do not speak from choice, that is okay and we speak perhaps from our behaviors such as a smile.
Debra Kay, I have come to the conclusion that i can never understand anyone, in any way nor even myself nor do I want to struggle to "try" to understand. This is a kindness to myself and a great burden fell from me once I let go of needing to "understand" as I spent years and years hoping someone would "understand" me and also trying to "Understand" others. And then I saw that what did it matter. What really matters is are they by your side, do they listen when you are aggrieved, do they hold your hand. And of course vice versa. Do I stand by someone, do I listen, do I hold their hand. Actions so much more important to me than the abstract intellectualized concept of "understand."
And they say us blokes don't speak our feelings.
All that was said
Was an unmade bed
And they say us blokes don't speak our feelings.
All that was said
Was an unmade bed
Sometimes communication comes out in other than words
and sometimes that is safe
for the sender and for the receiver
I like the picture in my mind
of the flowers forming on the bed...
a very beautiful poem
and beautiful reflections on it... every one of them... as i read through each... i saw one of the aspects of human soul... so now i'm here... feeling i know these two souls much better...
two souls
of the same tongue
yet each
singing a different song
not to defy
not to fight
just to pitch a tune so high
that the world of ordinary sounds
would kneel down
Understanding
but I'm feeling a loss
Beautiful words
And true
I miss my muse
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