Tags
acceptance of something so very far from happiness, alone, divorce, heartbreak, leaving, letting go, life, life beyond the leaving, lonely, loss, love, missing, separateness, sorrow, time, truth
how is it
I’ve grown weary
of the way you sip your tea –
the way you smile so unaware
of grief
that anchors me
every day –
in ten thousand ways
tho I cannot tell you why
the nights grow cold –
and I remiss
at telling you goodbye
as it was
before – as cannot be
your hand a comfort then
your voice – a whisper pining
a soulful welcome in
I wonder if you notice
or do you wonder as I do
of life beyond
the leaving –
a barter carried through
has it been years
or more to count
this distance now I feel
words without the strength to speak –
a hurt that will not heal
. . .
Author’s Note: Before you get concerned for me, I feel the need to explain. This isn’t about me, but rather the result of a conversation with a dear friend – one who has stayed beyond the leaving.
tornadoday 
That’s a tremendous one, Bobbie.
Thank you, Stephen…….. My day is always made when I discover you at my door.
And from the stories people need to tell we give a twist a little turn to make it poetry, the light of candle slowly will burn.
In the telling, we recall other times when we stood in similar places – between the bedroom and the door.
So many others’ story … tragedy and hope, faith that holds the empty hand …
While it’s easy to believe that no one has ever stood in our place, we should know better. We were given to each other for a reason – to nurture, to comfort, to carry….. ❤
I listen to many souls as they hang on. ❤
I bet you do. As do I…….. I struggle in my capacity to feel, to listen…….to assure that there is life beyond……… One of my favorite quotes. ‘There will come a time when you believe your life is at an end. That will be the beginning’……. I may have butchered the quote, but I know the intent “by heart”. ❤
Yes, I too struggle. I read a Mark Nepo piece yesterday on how they capture monkeys in China. They hollow out a coconut shell and leave a small opening and place rice inside. As the monkeys grasp the rice, their closed fist will not come back through the hole. Those that cannot let go get caught. It terrifies people to know that they hold the keys in their hearts. To replenish my batteries I have found a walking group and we’re off to Ambleside in the Lake District soon. Just the name feels wonderful. You will be there with me in my heart Bobbie, as you always are. ❤
…..sounds like paradise, Jane
This was such a heartfelt and melancholy piece that perfectly captured – beyond the leaving. Bravo
xo
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet and commented:
Come read this moving and heartfelt poem – for those who have stayed beyond the leaving.