Monday, June 08, 2015

My heart is squeezed by my own hand

The demands never stop
my heart is squeezed by my own hand
milking it
palpating it
waking it up
reminding it that life is good
and wonderful
and worth the pain

Judging life during the ebb
and forgetting all about the flow
 is a mistake

I've been stuck in ebb mode
caught up in an endless circling eddy
for week upon week

 I don’t like it but am at a loss to escape it
 at a loss to figure out how
to muster the courage to break through
the transparent wall of the bottomless whirlpool
and take a lateral leap
out into the flowing fresh water

This constant round and round leaves me dizzy
and filled with what feels like depression
but is probably grief
I’m heavy
Bereaved

If I were a cow
I’d be lowing in a distant meadow
alone
head hanging
jowls jiggling in the breeze

Staring at the magnificent green clover
 but having little desire to eat it
 Not one bite

11 comments:

Kathleen Trail said...

This creative impulse to write beautiful poetry in the midst of your grief is a step toward the light... Sending peace.

Nigel said...

Not sure what to say but saying nothing seems wrong. So, I just say that we are thinking of you.

Betsy said...

Thanks Nigel. Not to worry. Women's World Cup, and the fact that we now have cable, has made that clover look appetizing again. Even if they are playing on turf.

Lara said...

Glad to hear the clover is starting to look better to you. It's a long process. My Mom died 5 years ago (she was 59, had brain cancer) and it's only recently that every thought of her doesn't nearly bring me to tears. Be kind to yourself.

Anonymous said...

I like what Lara said above, Be kind to yourself. And the fact that you are self aware helps to to take care of yourself. Hug your girls and your husband and your doggie and your mom a lot. My heart goes out to you.
From long time reader, frequent commenter, Liz in Massachusetts

Mizzee said...

Beautifully written and so good to write it out in hope it speeds up healing. Even a tiny bit. Sending you all continuous love and hugs.

Amy V Palmer said...

Beautiful, Betsy. I know writing must help move you through grief. Keep at it.

Anonymous said...

Heartachingly beautiful. Hugs to you as you begin to notice the clover. --Mindy

Was Living Down Under said...

I'm so sorry for your loss Betsy. I've only just found out about your father - I've been busy lately and my kids are growing so I haven't been to Babycentre for awhile. I came here because when you do write, I love to see what you've written.

All my thoughts and prayers are with you. Even though you know the end is near, you're never quite prepared for life without a parent. No one can take their place and they remain permanently etched in your memory. Grief does come in ebbs and flows, the only thing you can do is move through it and let it take you where you need to go. I wish you peace as you navigate the world without your dad in his usual place.

momofthree said...

So beautiful, heartbreaking. I love your writing Betsy, sending you peace and love during this difficult time.

Jenny said...

Poetry, my dear fruzzin, yea, it is poetry. I'm out there too sometimes, "lowing in a distant meadow.