when a score simply isn’t enough

nearly a full score has passed
and i am sitting here
trying to imagine a poem that
will capture this love now lost
that still drives a fork through my heart
like a mack truck rambling its way
through the eye of a blunt needle

where am i now
you ask as though
i would somehow be somewhere
different somewhere where
the pain of a heartache
dissipates into a tomorrow
filled with laughter at memories
feed from forgotten transgressions

hmmmm…
each day i am learning
forgiveness is not an event
it is not a sprint
it is not a singular frame in time
and surrendering to it takes more
ovary power than birthing identical
quintuplets without a drip on a monday
night after fixing dinner in the midst of
rush hour traffic

forgiveness is slow motion
with retakes and split frames
it is walking in rain head uncovered
daring the wind to go against you
and praying for a fever to
lay you out because one less day
with a reason to sit out is exactly
what you need when a mack
truck is going through the land-mine
that has become your heart after
a Blue-Steele nuclear has
detonated and made your life ash

a full score has almost passed
and i’m sitting here
trying to imagine a poem
that will put into words the
fragments i work to piece together
day in night out as the simple prayer
open the eyes of my heart
is hummed by me sung by me
in a lamentation that somehow
a new me arises from the embers
of that life

that life i lived
where there were interior jokes
and folded underwear laid neatly
in drawers with cancelled checks and
receipts for dinner along side
just because secret gift stashes
where fireside chats did not include
lego wars and spilled warmed cider
but a half emptied bottle of  Qualitätswein
and a silent game of scrabble

its been nearly a score
after the score before where
i’d learned about life’s meditation
solitude my friend but after that
score had ended i’d learned to
open my heart and love reigned
in a new vulnerability that was
sweet and reminiscent of a time
i’d never known where trust was
instinctive and faith blind

that life is over now
ruined by a fool’s hand
cheered by bitterness
but i am no phoenix
myth and resurrection do
not suit me instead i
take what has always been
a warrior’s stand
defensive by offense
offensive by design
closed heart open mind

nearly a score has passed
and i am sitting here
wondering
when is it going to
stop hurting.

 

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