|Oct/Nov 2017 Poetry|
Image excerpted from Raising Consciousness by Roe LiBretto
The room is dark when I wake up this morning,
though it's past nine and
I hear birds bantering in the trees
as if nothing in the world has changed.
Let me explain: this is a living metaphor
for my life at this precise moment.
Yesterday I asked for an ending,
cried about a failed investment that cost us
nearly half our lives.
I saw my words, neither
sticks nor stones,
bring a man I have loved to his knees.
I smothered my instinct to go to him and
be his line of strength, as I have
always been, because I asked not to be.
He asked for a hug, which turned into me
sitting on his lap, both clinging and sobbing
in that chair I hate so much.