Empty Spaces

Walking inside a dream

a certain figure inside she is crying

her shadow draws him

convinced she is who he believes.

 

I found a picture this morning,

walked inside the room

could recall the happy smiles

couldn’t help but cry again.

 

She spoke of wanting freedom,

I didn’t fit any longer

her words in letters spoke of love

in reality I spoke too soon.

 

These are the empty spaces today

Those were the memories we made.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

-for Zelda

I Thought I Was Over You

I did,

I imagined I might handle time,

I could see the light,

the tunnel of despair

widening,

letting me begin to seek

the other side.

 

I really did,

listen to me my blathering,

I figured upon,

letting go of hope,

and then I might see

the other side.

 

I remember so many hours

of relentless wish

to stay here,

leave me alone,

let my walls become

our security

this piece of parcel

being now a shredded remedy

to the ever increasing

weight

while realizing despair

would always be my personal

trigger,

the other side.

 

I wouldn’t wish to ever leave you

could I always imagine

being with you, then, on

the other side.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

Rainy Days

A compelling desire

to embrace the mystique of a rainy day.

 

watching the rains

watching the rains

 

We have memoirs in our mind,

the searing spiral of time

when if we stop for a moment

feel nature’s mist on our skin

brings us to a soft

sweet shower

when we might know again

there is truth

inside the beauty of love.

 

watching the rains

watching the rains

 

Watching droplets glance pavement

imagining somber days while

the windows transform to a quiet refuge

wishing her arms would be in my own

the two of us in discreet embrace

 

watching the rains

watching the rains

 

there is a certain beauty in the cause of love

when lost in ourselves

allowing time to no longer matter

except this moment,

when eyes do search, feelings surge

toward some urgency

our natural desires do drive our passions

 

watching the rains

watching the rains

 

watching the rains in a surreal romance


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

– for Zelda

Though Shorter Days Compel

The days were longer when

we stood in line with eager eyes

watching the sunlight fade

into summer wane.

 

Once in a blue moon

we might say

if standing on a hilltop

we could look each other’s way.

 

The days are shorter now,

the time in between

will be longer still,

our hearts might mend.

 

Yet in the scheme of things,

love remarks strong, this everything.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

When Love Consumes

We forget where it is we begin,

we can be traveling down the road,

a familiar song,

that melody I listened to when I was 17

and all I needed was a good lyric

to believe the compassion

I might be feeling in the moment.

 

I could often times feel so in love with

the idea

of being in love,

knowing I would give my heart to her,

or was it simply I wanted that touch,

that feeling of knowing

I was perhaps the one being loved.

 

I find it funny now when I think about

all the energy I spent

trying to find her,

and never really believing I would,

until over time,

I discovered there was nothing in between …

either I was completely lost in her eyes,

or this was simply a fantasy.

 

The former seemed safe, I could go forward

knowing again that someone, this one,

she did love me,

she told me so on so many occasions

and I believed her

because I did love her too.

I don’t think I could have let myself be convinced

if I did not give myself completely to her.

 

Yet somewhere down the road, I became consumed

and I forgot to lend her a hand to come along in my eyes.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

– for Zelda

Quiet

Times

when alone

a fleeting desire

left dangling a distant shadow

always will

loom upon this our memory

defined by her distracted

by me

whatsoever I might recall

whilst she

forgets for freedom

settle in,

patience our tested virtue

will outlast

silent disputes.

 

Quiet reckoning

 

~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

Sometimes, When I Cannot Think

I walk in a circle

without ever leaving my mind,

the world around me,

static,

only me wandering

inside this place,

this bit of evil

that would suggest

I will fail

no matter the energy,

the positive source of beauty,

no matter the realm of distance

between my self and my future.

 

It is a quiet torment,

the reality of certain disappointment

when coming to terms

with that simplicity

we blame upon

the human condition.

 

We are taught to understand

failure in frivolous fortune,

the sediment of our mind,

showing only the deprecating outcome

of shielded fury,

the sort of reckoning

occurs when one is faced with a fate

they might never believe

could happen in their lifetime.

 

Then we are told to live on,

get over the edge of sorrow

realize another day,

welcome a new horizon,

as we drive toward a full moon,

we are asked to forget our past.

 

Sometimes, when I am left to imagine

I cannot think beyond the tears.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

A Path In The Road

He said it well when struggling to know

‘two roads diverged in the wood’*

and then we found ourselves

standing alone again.

 

We walked a path together

hands held, looking ahead

not knowing where just

feeling the crisp spring air.

 

Stood on a river bank,

sat in the dried mud,

our elbows propped so

we could feel shoulders,

 

smiles in recognizing the

fisherman across the river,

his dog bounding nearby,

wondering if he might see us;

 

I remember I didn’t mind,

because I was with her,

and no one could ever

take away a moment in the sun.

 

With the one I love,

I remember wanting the hours

forever, to keep our hearts

warm with the passion of day.

 

This one day, there were many

this way, where we could walk

in the sight of day, and love

one another until the stars …

 

It was then we began to know the night

sky would beckon our realities home.

*Robert Frost – The Road Not Taken


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

A Story of Love

I know this woman, knew this woman, I know this woman today. See the very confusion of that opening line should indicate how difficult it is within this story for me to find my way. I suppose it all began when I was 15 years old. I met a woman, a classmate whom I was infatuated with and wanted to ask her out. My best friend told me she wouldn’t give me the time of day, but he was wrong. We started dating and she was my first kiss.

I remember it well, it was at a local beach in our hometown, where we were going swimming. She was gorgeous and her body was asking me to love her, all teenager and bursting in her bikini. Being the boy I was, I had to hide my excitement, though, nowadays I know she knew. Here’s where things get dicey.

We started making out, and I held back, because I was scared. Oh I wanted to touch every part of her body, and she might have wanted the same, but I couldn’t. I wanted her to know how much I respected her. Our little courtship went on a few more weeks until she had had enough and started dating a guy from the football team. I’m pretty sure they found their way quickly because she never looked back, and me, I pined over her the rest of my high school years.

Years later, in college I met the woman of my dreams. She was tall and elegant and postured in such a way that anything she wore around her body was sensually driving my mind. She had a pair of rain boots that were the sexiest in the world, and I just thought I needed to walk through puddles with her one day. We dated for over four years, had probably some of the best sex of my life, but it really wasn’t sex, it was to me, love. I’d never felt so close to someone in my life, and yet, I couldn’t consummate our love-making beyond doing everything else but intercourse. I felt like if I did that, I would be obligated to marry her. My upbringing again, stalled so many of my moments. I remember she and I would find each other after weeks, go back to each other’s apartments and spend the next day or two in bed, frustrating ourselves to no end. And yet, in the end, we knew we loved each other.

For years after we parted we wrote one another letters. These were the kind that romanticists have struggled to recreate for years. Back then, we didn’t have email, the internet, snapchat, twitter – anything. If we wrote one another, we’d have to wait a couple of days before we knew they would receive it. We wrote over 100 letters back and forth, and in the meantime, she had started dating an old high school friend of mine. One time she told me how upset he was to see her walking up her long gravel road on a summer’s day, reading yet another letter from me. We wrote more discreetly after that, eventually moved to different cities and began lives with new people.

I married, and ironically, she is someone I’ve never written a letter to. Perhaps some poems around anniversaries and birthdays but even then those never felt nearly as thrilling and exhilarating as the ones I shared with Jane. I’ll call her Jane because it is safe to say, we may never cross paths again, though I do often hope she wonders about me even half the time I do think about her.

So, where dose this all lead. I’ll finish here soon, I promise. there is a point and it is a romantic one. Fast forward ten years, I’ve been married, have two beautiful children and experience a certain unhappiness in my world I cannot shake. I struggle with the obligation of maintaining my vows with the uncertainty of a man feeling lost in the pained expression of societies mores. That sounds all heady and everything but the reality is, as I write this today, I’ve spent the last 30 years in a marriage of convenience. It is a terrible thing for a man to say, but it is my truth. I love my spouse with all my heart, but I do not love her. Some of you get that, some of you don’t care. I can live with that.

Here’s the point.

I met someone in grad school years ago. I didn’t take the class expecting to meet this person. However, she walked into the classroom a sunny, summer day, and it was one of those moments when I could not help to look away for fear she might see me falling in love with her in the moment. We did over the course of the next few weeks become close, and started sharing laughs and time together. When the class ended I walked out of her life with an email address, having spent the night before at a theatre performance with her by my side, the two of us telling one another years later the closeness drove us both crazy wild with passion.

I wrote her a letter initially expressing how much I loved knowing her and sharing time with her. I got a response a couple of days later, and there it began. For years I had been searching for my soul-mate in words, my muse, my woman of mystique who might respond to all of my tellings in my poetic verse. Her words came back to me as if we were writing a Zelda & Scott testimonial of true love and romance. We did eventually find ourselves wanting to be with one another, and in the shadows of our real lives we began a courtship of passion and honesty.

One day, in the throes of realizing who we were without the constraints of our marriages, I took the leap and told her ‘I love you’ and she gave me a look that suggesting I was destroying our moment that was well enough without complication. It would be years later I would discover I misread the moment, and even though for that time our demise fell upon us, we both would realize a decade or more later, we did know what love is.

For now, I will stay here in this moment, and let you imagine the next few years … the story continues. The greatest takeaway I want the reader to know is how after all these years of my protestations that I would not ever give myself completely to a woman again, well, I realized I was wrong … again.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~