Untethered: them, then, and now… a poem of loneliness.

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I finally understand

why they left, and how

it feels to become untethered,

loosed

from life

from love.

Every one, all

off on their own

and you

left alone

where alone digs a hole

deeper and deeper

until hollowness resounds

and pain echoes

echoes in

that cavern

when all you want

is another

all you want

is to love and be loved

but it’s

a retreating

need.

You reach, you hope, you

can almost taste

but there is no one there

to take your hand or meet your lips

and you realize though you are happy

in your solitary times

happy cannot be its own champion.

This hollow

is temporary,

you know

as they did not

as they could not

shed

this feeling of

gnawing

emptiness,

but you find

it is a gift

of understanding

of light

of empathy

as long as it remembers

to go away.

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We’ve all felt this, or most of us: loneliness, lonely times, alone in between relationships and sometimes even in the midst of them. What did you do, how did you cope?  I put one foot in front of the other. That is the way I know. I know to look forward and proceed with the journey…

~ Lily

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Fall collage…

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I’ll take these gifts:

bits of coloured glass

from the sea

blue green and amber

nestled in bisque pottery

shaped fine

and lovingly,

a chestnut

found upon the path

its prickly case

opening,

sponge protection

enveloping it like an egg

in a middle-school science experiment,

a glossy auburn treasure

held

smooth

holding

warmth,

beside a laced leaf

upon my window sill

and the ginkgo

with its perfect pleats

fanned next to a simple note

written by a child

my child

my memories

arranged with

bits of nature

like a collage of beauty

taped over the holes

of my soul.

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The play of an autumn evening…

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Once upon an autumn evening

I walked to beat the darkness

seeming–

in breezes tousling,

streets shushed and still,

as dinnertime and bedtime

came and went and loomed–

paused

as the lingering sun

strove to outshine the moon,

playing hide and seek over rooftops

and dodging in the trees,

golden and warm in final moments–

Mother may I

remember these.

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Carving: a poem of life and death.

Carving.

.

The bark of a tree

textured rough, linear grooves

scraped

against my skin

peeled

down to the

tender new wood

is how I feel

still

when I think of your death.

So young so

alone

so alone you must have been

and where was I

why was I

oblivious to your good-bye?

As if like any other

as if I would see you again

after

your hand

you put your hand

to my baby soon to be born

but not in time

to know

you,

and what I remember

and what I hold

tenderly

is what a joy

you were

to me.

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What’s it like to be alone on Friday night?

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Friday Night…

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The rain of Fall is drizzling down

a sullen glaze upon the ground

I walk and brisk beneath umbrella

with purpose though with daylight

shortened,

I avoid events in dark

important

only to my social self,

craving the music and celebration,

meeting people, scant libation

though all the summer clothes

upon my bed

will doubtless be sorted

and stored instead,

so next time you go night-tripping,

bring me–

so I may instead write

the poetry of

a cheery night.

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Hi everyone. I hope you’ve had a happy week. Lo and behold, and oh so quickly, Friday night has come. I have turned down dates, like a fool, most likely, but I don’t feel like going out with guys just to have someone to go out with if I really can’t see myself with that someone. Does that make sense? I’m choosing to be alone, I suppose. Usually I don’t mind. I have all sorts of plans for the rest of the weekend, by myself and with friends. There is just something about Friday night… it’s traditional date night, even for my married friends, unless they are going to the kids’ football or soccer games, or having a family pizza and movie night…

So yes, I’m sorting summer clothes and getting out fall and winter sweaters and trench coats. (Isn’t That exciting!?) And then, I’ll cozy up with a good book. Yes, I do acknowledge I’d much rather be cozying up with a good man.

All good things in time!

So are you alone tonight? By choice? Or by … unfortunate circumstances? Either way, how’s it feel and what are you doing?

Have a good weekend–there is still a lot of weekend left after Friday night!

~ Lily

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Unwrapped …

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Unwrapped (edit) …

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As a shining bauble on his arm

to complement elegance

and charm,

with grace, some sparkle, and beauty,

words in play

and avarice

his hedonistic duty,

enticements of this earth

but scant the ways of heaven,

I set aside those words,

that world,

and attached myself instead

to what is beyond and what is within

and what can be trusted,

to Begin

a simple life…

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Mood du jour…

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An inner rein

that falls at whim

wrapping up

but pulling in,

when the world intrudes and troubles

strength recedes

like water waves

–ripples, flows, crashes, plays–

tide returns

in time, in phase.

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