Silent Demands
Silence of a moment
lasts a lifetime
of sorrows accumulated
love left unclaimed
longing felt wanting
This silence
rather intrusive at times
particularly during raving moments
of true madness
The years filed past
slowly filling each calendars' page
one moment
followed by yet another day
The silence of this moment
filed on while I lay sleeping
weeping
Then
once again
you eluded my dreams
escaping open
yearning arms
Moments of silence gave way
as thoughts of you would play
with wisps and trails
on hard-edged tails
of fleeting memories
Sweeping away
creeping along
robbed
of loving you
my arms
remain empty
This silence is rather intrusive
sometimes
I can't be heard
above the rising din
while in this raving moment of madness
raining upon my head
Silence drags on
filled with quiet pandemonium
while the remains
witness
ensuing stillness
shattered
scattered
as if this mattered
And
my arms remain
empty
useless
appendages
hanging
listlessly
by my side
Though you stand
Before me
Now
The preceding years
are lost still
and you remain
a stranger
lost to me yet
Damning the silence
mocking the madness
during raving moments
of pure sadness
Listening for a voice
as yet unheard
waiting release
of silent screams
not long denied
Promises
made in the dark
of lonely, tear-filled nights
as I cradled
and rocked you
lovingly
left me wanting
more
Still
It led
to this intrusive
silence
discovering sadness
while the insanity raged
and waged
war
plaguing sane moments
with elusive possibility
found only in fantasy
Lies
Led to more
lies
fed by a longing
intense
hungry
inspiring greater heights
and
pursuit of mad
agile
mind plays
I wrote this one sometime ago...obvsiously...and it's actually part of the introduction in my thesis. So, it's published. Just so you know...Audrey has the only printed copy I had of my thesis (i.e. published in hardback...though Prescott College has a printed copy, as well...was one of the requirements). She has tried to read it over the years, but...can't. Anyway...I changed it again. I find that I do that when I type out an old piece...I change words...line breaks...etc...always a work in progress. I didn't used to change them much when I was quite young...just left them as is. You know...I have poems I wrote when I was a young 'un...like...when I started writing...around 11-12 yrs old.
I did a class with Carol once...when they were studying poetry...this was one of the pieces I used...read. I was making a point about interpretation of an author's work. Some of the students gave interesting interpretations...many...most?...thought this was a poem of love lost...a lover lost. It is of a love lost, but not about a lover lost. The point was...we can't know what a piece is actually about unless we know the author, and can talk to them...asking. We can make guesses...even educated guesses...potentially accurate guesses...if we know something of their lives, but can't know for sure what a piece is about unless we know them to ask.
The date is significant.
Love you Babes...yer Motha.
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I am assuming this poignant piece of poetry is about Mark. The date being so important because it is possibly the day you met him again. That was such a strange time in all of our lives, worry, fear, happiness, sadness, angst, trepidation, and so many others…I never knew how to feel at first, so lost about it all. I can only imagine what you felt like! Knowing I could never live through something like that makes me that much more aware of how strong of an INDIVIDUAL you are mom. You truly amaze me on a daily basis! The paragraph about not knowing what a writer is trying to convey is something I have tried to speak about many times. Especially concerning the Bible! But, on a regular basis in English classes we would have arguments about what an author meant, who will ever know? Even the author may lose the meaning of what they were initially writing about. As you said, it is a constant work in progress. Thank you for sharing this with me, and the rest of your thoughts that amaze me.
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