It’s just that simple.
You get up.
You go stand at the window.
You watch the rain
–Just like those other people
in that building
across the way–
And you forget everything else.
Let it all go.
Let the rain do its job.
–dissolve–
Then you breathe
and think about the message you’d send
to your dead father.
I’m sorry Dad.
I didn’t realize.
I wrote the following poem after sitting with the main character in my current novel for an entire day, trying to get into her head, feel what she feels, understand how she thinks. It was very intense!
Desultory Dreams
why were you there last night
in her dreams?
after so many, many years
so many loves,
a multitude of lives.
the past is past.
but if that’s so then why?
why is she thinking about you?
why is she wondering what she missed?
why is she wanting to kiss your full lips?
why is she wanting to feel your breath on her skin?
she remembers
you
your eyes
your hands
your hands were so lovely
and you were such a gentleman.
she remembers
the freckle on your nose
your dark eyes full of life and laughter
the way you wore sweaters over button-down shirts and
khaki pants with leather sandals.
but the past is past.
looking back to those days
it is clear that you were meant to be
separate, not together.
although
she can’t help but wonder
what your child would have looked like
beautiful and perfect, like you,
with dark eyes, dark hair, and a perfect mouth
or with red hair and freckles
and flawed
like her.
maybe she is still in love with you.
but how could she still be in love with you?
you are complete strangers now,
so many years later.
perhaps it is just the memory of you that she loves.
a beautiful, haunting memory
like the hollow spot left
after a pulled wisdom tooth.
your memory is like an amputated toe
producing phantom pain
and throwing her off balance
for the rest of her life.
with every step she must adjust for the lack of you.
every love she feels is haunted by you
every love she has
is measured by your memory.
can someone please tell her
tell her that you didn’t love her
tell her that you were not
would never have been
her one and only love
her all?
can someone please dispel the spell
which haunts her soul
and torments her
such that she shall never be able
to truly be happy
to truly give her heart
to anyone else?
I suppose the truth
is that she no longer owns her heart
that she gave it to you
willingly
naively
foolishly
so many years ago
and that Fate somehow
somewhere
capriciously decided
that you were not meant to be together.
she made a life
living by the seat of her pants
making the wrong decisions
because
how could any decision
that did not include you in her life
be the right decision?
she found a lover to replace you
but
he never could replace you.
she made a family
but
her children were not yours
even though she loves them more than life.
she kept going
persevered
stoically
living a life that didn’t include you
never completely happy
every joy tinged with some regret.
every triumph tinged with some loss.
never fully living
without you.
actually,
never fully living
because of (the memory of) you.
perhaps it is
just the memory of you
that she loves.
a beautiful, haunting memory
like the hollow spot left
after a pulled wisdom tooth
your memory is like an amputated toe
producing phantom pain
and throwing her off balance
for the rest of her life.
with every step
she must adjust
for the lack of you.
every love she feels
is haunted by you
every love she has
is measured by your memory.
imagine
an entire life
measured
by the lack of you.
I can never think when you’re around
when I’m alone I think too much
My thoughts congeal like blood exposed to air
they drip from my heart onto the paper
or the plastic keyboard in this case
then they take off like hummingbirds
flit from branch to branch on blue and green iridescent wings
and chase each other away before they can alight
and light is a word that’s too revealing for these thoughts
which belong to the night and the silken softer hours
but you and the memory of your scent are in my head
and the light glints like jewels dripping from flowers
while my thoughts flit like hummingbirds in the garden
hunting nectar drops like dew
beaded up on your skin after we make love
Annisa Tangreen