D.J. Hall (August 2007)
Search for hidden pond
With an eager anticipation
For a successful expedition
Opportunity for abundant fishing
For answers, blue gill, our emotions unraveled.
Propels us through a path less traveled
Traipsing mile after mile in summer’s humidity
Past endless rows of sunny simplicity.
Yellow faces watch in silence as we feel
Relentless dampness seep from pores at
Neck, cleavage, face and arms, as the
weight of the chaos I have created
continually trickles through my thoughts.
Much like the unremitting, infuriating mosquitoes.
Threatening to drive me crazy.
Onward, our heavy feet trudge, through a
Midwestern field full of tall grass and ticks
Accompanied by droning honeybees and
Annoyance of horseflies, heat and his enthusiasm.
Sulking, I discover beauty beneath the surface.
Like many other spheres of life,
I find a hidden eco-system at the edge of the pond,
Woven between the algae, guppies and tiny frogs.
As I sit and fume about my discomfort, misery and him
is the certainty that we, too, are intermingled.
Energy, fate, force or whim
Compels me to accept the reality that I had
attempted to submerge.
The certainty that I believe in our love, our future,
and that our affections will once again resurface.
D. J. Hall (April 2007)
Sense of self-expression, thoughts and ideas.
Picked apart, scoffed at, rejected.
She allows herself to be neglected.
Their conversation turns to debate.
A simple question raises provocation.
New man. Strange love
Now taken for granted.
Her life made a mockery, daily rebuke feels like puke.
She knows keeping her down raises him up.
Children grown and away. Now time to play.Accept no longer this mourning, this hunger.
The Past is a root that spreads, swelling between us.
A source for constant state of upheaval.
Mistakes, deception and cruelty are a sickness.
The smallest faults expand, proliferate.
The Past is unwilling to forgive or obliterate.
Two souls of different spirit, psyche, strength.
Attempt to move forward together
Continual to struggle.
Where is my spine? Where is his heart?
His thoughts are so deep
They are drowning me.
His philosophy is so stoic
It smothers me.
His systematized style is so uptight
It stifles me.
I should be more
I should be less
Instead, I am
The Past, in its wary way,
Is a destroyer of destiny.
Creating dreams only to be demolished.
Our Past eliminates Our Future.
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