Categories
of Loss and Loneliness

Destruction

The Complete Destruction of Everything Known

Reaching deep
into my incomplete self
recognizing the demons
that haunt and belay me
beyond my knowing or belief
betrayed by my measurement of self
and my ignorance of this world.

Deemed necessary for me
to cast judgement, all too easy, and convenient
to jest and parade my wonder for all to see.
No wonder. I am as I am and while I evolve into nothing
from where I came and where I began, I will return.

It’s these days, unsure and frightening
that I recede into my thoughts and my expectations.
No longer valid or realizable, I lament over a life spent in vain.

To have only helped myself, I have become a creature.
A creature traveling to nowhere, to a vast desert of vast waste
and vast desperation and loneliness.

To cry. Cry out. Fruitless, as I have dishonored you and my creator. No redemption as sentence is passed and the gates have closed.

Irredeemable, without hope, I trudge onto the end, which is unsure and terrifying.

Remorse, regret, confusion and unknowingness dog my steps.

Madness, my fate. Loneliness, my gate.

Should I meet a stranger and say, “how do you do?” and the stranger asks in kind. Should I believe that he is fine or troubled as I am? I just can’t say.

Without redemption, to die without exemption; an impossible thought for one such as I. So, I’ll decide that when the time is right, I will divorce the sorrows, the tomorrows, and take comfort that God will do with me as with everyone else; love and caress my weary soul.

-J

Categories
of Loss and Loneliness

Whisper

Whisper

In the dark, again, alone in my chair, listening to Dave Koz’s “When Will I Know for Sure” as smoke billows out of an open window and into the warm night air. Relaxed, as I sip a drink and a candle glows, softly. This moment I have prepared for us. Surreal in its peaceful ambiance and loveliness.

I remember a hot tub at midnight in Anchorage at a home of friends on a mountain, sun blaring. A cocktail with a friend in Aspen after an exhausting day. The warmth of a campfire where my wife and I rested. Rested eyes in each other’s for the first time, then for many nights, suddenly and unmistakably gone.

The late-night swims with our loved ones. Something stupid said by a grandson breaking the still of the water gliding over our bodies. The embrace, wet and close, slippery and sensual. The salty kiss and a throw of a ball chased by the dog.

The sweet whisper meant only for me. Our eyes locking in the same thought. Understanding that we belonged to the other. The assurance that, no matter what, she would be there, always.

The song changes. Crystal Blue Persuasion.

“The sun is a-risen’. A new day is coming. People are changin’. Ain’t it beautiful? Don’t you give up now. Just look to your soul. Open your mind.”

Words, meant for me.

The mandolin vibrates my being and another’s whose breath I feel on my neck. Then, the faint whisper, meant only for me.

-J