by Ruth Schiffmann
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I am strangled, gasping
For enough air to keep me going
Hoping for the day it will hurt less.
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This is all new
Yet too much, already.
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I remember when the world circled
In a familiar pattern,
Comfortable,
content.
-
The day my mother drowned in depression
It slipped from its axis.
Everything is new
Unexpected,
unforeseen.
-
I see myself react to new circumstances
And realize that I am different too.
Perhaps the misalignment of the planets,
The stars,
the moon,
Has thrown me into an alternate reality.
-
Unrecognizable,
I don’t like this version of me.
And I wonder if I will ever find my way back
To Normal.
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If the moon will ever pull the waters to the shore
On the beach where I built childhood sandcastles
Or if the rest of my life will be lived here
Where the waters are always hungry
And no matter how long I watch them lap the shore
And hope for the peace of youth,
They threaten to swallow me up, pull me into empty currents,
And erase all traces in the sand that I ever existed at all.
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Author bio:
Ruth Schiffmann puts pen to paper always hoping for that magical moment when the words take on a life of their own. Over a hundred of her stories, articles, and poems have appeared in publications both in print and online. Her work can be viewed at www.RuthSchiffmann.com.
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
This poem really reflects the way that I am feeling. It is the most wonderful poem I have ever read. I lost my husband over a year ago and Ifeel lost Thank you for writing this.It is just perfect.
Simply beautiful. Thanks.
What an amazing expression of loss and grief, so beautiful in its capturing of clear emotions. It is a place where I’ve visited in lonely and disoriented times of sadness; we’ve all been there. Yet it is a gift to have it so well described, a bond of being.
Thank you so much Laurie, Donald, and Kate, for reading and taking the time to let me know that my words found a connection with you. I’m truly touched by your responses.
Simply stated in wonderful heartfelt emotions and then transfered into ink
it tells it all in each stanza – good direction and great piece of work
mr allen
A lovely, lonely piece about how it is, to be on the receiving end. There is no way in to the sufferer’s world and you are left adrift and alone. You describe it so accurately.