Sitting In the Stalls of Life

I looked across the ice rink from where I was sitting and what I saw brought tears to my eyes. It was such a simple thing – just a boy and a girl, becoming a young man and a young woman. My son was still very much a beginner skater. Skating is such a technically demanding sport, it takes years to become competent. However, even though he was a beginner, he was a male figure skater. Anyone in the skating or dancing world knows what that means. A good male skater or dancer is highly valued and is in great demand. And so, it was not surprising that from the moment we arrived, all the young female skaters would have definitely been aware of my son’s presence. It’s great for the ego! Continue reading “Sitting In the Stalls of Life”

Connection

Every intimate relationship with a partner will bring back old, unfinished childhood-parenting issues. They lie in wait, to resurface in a different context – one in which we are an adult and can start to process things that were beyond us as a child to even understand, let alone resolve. The parent who abandoned, for example, is not gone. The whole issue and every emotion attached to it will come stomping back into the arena under the guise of an adult relationship. When we look for a partner, the last thing people generally want is some connection to their own, usually faulty, upbringing. However, the in-built healing push in humans will make the connection inevitable. Continue reading “Connection”

The Great Death – poem

I stood at the back of the funeral room. Very still.
Black dress. Black coat. It’s cold.
Purposely alone. Ears closed.
Not wanting to hear the tirade of sweet lies.

Did they not know you were already dead? I think they did.
They walk with the dignity of a funeral crowd into the tea room.
I can see them chatting happily through the window.
“What a fantastic guy he was. Cheese or meat sandwich?”

I sit outside, next to you. No one can see. No one bothers to look.
Sinking to fresh earth, I ask you why you did that to yourself.
Why did you cling to that which fed you a slow poison?
Why did you betray that which was guard to your soul?

There is no reply.
The words get taken by the chill wind.
You cry in your sleep.
The tears never see the light of day.

The sadness is not this death.
You are not even dead. You are just over there.
The sadness is the other death – the death that doesn’t end.
The one that follows behind, ever present with its grey, hollow touch.

Walk a bit further. There is a different land not far away.
The people in it have the magic to break the icy fingers of the great death.
I heard that you don’t even have to pay. However, you have to find their door.
It is only found by those who pay the other price.

This poem is from Love’s Longing