Pardon Me

Shadow work to do now

Let’s face it — I didn’t care
I did, and then…I didn’t

I do — or it’s possible, I don’t

Tell me what you think, and don’t hold back

We can’t stay here forever
For fuck’s sake, why would we want to?

Who isn’t ready, at this point, for some great and epic adventure!

Who?

Tell me

This is my prayer, my petition
My pardon

In Our Fifties

Our chartreuse-colored love

The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite

Nor will we throw it away

We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”

We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma

We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am

We do this
You, there, and me, here

Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching

What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over

What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love

Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us

Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day

Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing

Pack up and move far away

Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road

It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye

Stricken With Purpose

What of the bitter
Since I’ve known sweet
When I’ve caused distance
You’ve drawn me near
I cannot unknow
Understanding You’ve giv’n
If there be cracks in cement
We’ll place jewels there
For flowers

Not weeds shall grow here

The Dash Between The Years

This complete life
Has been about nothing
But having it all 
Ripped away and pulled out from under 
Glorious arms and legs
Made stronger
Never getting a free ride from
The orange-striped vehicle of my choice
And it goes on forever
Faster, slower, stop, again