Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Part of Me, poem

"It is our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top"--Virginia Woolf



Photo courtesy of Chloe Drehmer


Part of Me

The house is dark and quiet,
my bedroom feels like a tomb
and for a few seconds
       I am not sure if I am awake or dreaming.

Everything is at once familiar
 but strange as if I'm seeing
 with new eyes.

I reach over
to the empty side of the bed,
remember you are working,
and feel alone.

I say morning prayers
and try to clear my mind.
I read a passage that says
there is no birth and no death.

Part of me says it's a lie
for I have felt both rip
at the sides of my heart.

Part of me understands
the meaning...
We are returned to the beginning
over and over.

How can you give birth
to something that always exists?
How can you grieve
what never dies?

I turn the Christmas tree on
and make the bed.
I need something to remind me
there will be presents and smiles.

The coffee brews and I sit alone
at the table
waiting.

Aleathia Drehmer 2015

1 comment:

  1. wonderful aleathia,the words you write have so many meanings,yet the ones not mentioned, Your father,my brother,was extremely proud of you and the women you've become,he was truly blessed to have you in his life again,for those were the words I heard from him several years as we had spoken often.love uncle mike.

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