April is here.There are forced forsythia branches in our morning eatery sunshining up the kitchen. It is sunny outside today, but chilly, and I am watching yesterday’s snow leaving the south facing roofs. Now the grass is slowly peeking through the northwest lawns in my purview. The sky is blindingly blue and requesting my presence. I have a meeting at the far end of the building later this afternoon, and I will bring my coat and continue on out the back door to visit my favorite accessible bit of Kendal’s “wilderness; the Buttonbush Bridge. The pond there is murky and dark after the ice melted, filled with the ratchet of spring frogs, shrill peepers, and too many bird calls for me to discern individually. Last time I visited, the clash of two geese on the apartment roofs behind me, shouted down all other sounds until they slithered down the shingles to the ground and flapped raucously away.
It is always a revelation of an experience larger than myself. I leave touched and opened. I did so today, learning why those two geese had caused such a fuss on the lawn behind the pond. They chose this pond as the spot to lay their eggs. It was now their territory. The mother goose created her nest right on top of a muskrat’s nest. The mound had been there last week and looked even bigger and sturdier now. Sitting on her eggs, the goose reached out her long neck from time to time gathering more strands of duckwweed within her reach to add her contribution to the mound.
Both creatures don’t know that this is a vernal pond, and by midsummer, it will be dry or reduced to a very small puddle left in the middle. How they will get on with one another I can’t imagine. Geese are very aggressive and muskrats are very shy unless cornered. Perhaps the upstairs/downstairs arrangement will work out for them. One enters by air, the other by underwater doorways. I wish them both well in starting their new families.
Three days ago I awoke with such a longing for the simple human intimacy of being with Richard. This initially painful gift is also a heart opening. Only when I drop down as deep as the pond, am I touched by Love, an equally welcome though differently painful opening.
seeps through the skin
foggy tendrils of sorrow
grasp coiling around
Your breath is gone
you hands your smell your voice
the empty spaces
exuding lost masculinity
intimacy of humor
the steadfast love of you
not here not there
through the illusion
arms that hold
for a moment
nothing and everything
I can hardly bear
5 thoughts on “Loneliness and Love”
your poem creates such beautiful sadness. well done.
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Thank you for sharing You. I am deeply moved….. I have not had this experience of losing my Lifemate/Great Love…. as I have had neither….it seems so wonderful and terrible at the same time!!!!
Much Love to you💕
Staying honest that there is ongoing grieving in and amongst my good fortune and joy.
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Somehow the link to “comments” didn’t work. That has happened a few times….
I love this poem, appreciating how generously you give of your heart, teaching us to be so utterly, tenderly human. It is not easy,but it is so alive, layers of richness. I’m so glad you are on the planet.
Enid and I spoke of Richard recently. She just finished chemotherapy, post mastectomy. Prognosis is good, but it is, to be sure, in her words, “ a sobering moment”.
We both have photos of Richard up in our homes, reminding us of what it is to be loved and guided on the journey—
Many thanks, and love to you on your extraordinary journey.
“Loved and guided on the journey”- we are fortunate to be sure. Blessings to you and to Enid traveling through her sobering moment….Sorry about the link issues. There are other glitches I have heard people struggle with as well. See what I can do about that. Thanks