I am torn by the loss of a loved one.
And I cannot really express it,
So I’ll mask it in this poem,
this mental nook, and confess it.
I had never lost a loved one
while the person was still alive.
I had never had a hole so deep.
Never had I ever persisted to revive
a loved one and watch their love die for me.
And when it turns from dusk to dawn,
I try my hardest to hold on.
As the day settles its worries away,
I hear the tune of the birds that betray,
from whistles of chirping to wailing sounds,
surrounding the love of my heart-shaped hole.
Birds knawing all over words like, I love you.
Regurgitating the person I once knew,
even spitting out words like,
I love you too.
And the mockingbird sits
and waits for the prey he has sought,
the fresh meat from my soul to say,
I love you not.
And I watch as the birds do eat some of me away,
and I hold on to the love I remember by day.
And I let go when I am devoured away,
and I regrow that love in the hole
for the vulture’s next prey.
And I wonder why I continue to fill in the hole,
with a love symbolic of losing control,
and yet it regrows and then I never know,
whether that hole will bury the other lost soul.
I plant seeds each day in hopes that they’ll grow
and each day I visit this casket-less hole.
Each evening the birds scatter my seeds onto others
who love me and fulfill those needs.
And though I know the Lord wants to distract,
each day I’m shaken to the core and react.
When will I ever bury this hole
and fill it with crops from new seeds? I don’t know.
But most of all, why do I give rest,
to a love that is plucked straight from the breast?
When will I place a lid on the casket?
So the relationship will die so that love will never ask it:
Why did you leave? What did I do wrong?
What did you need? Will you be long?
And yet I watch night devour the day,
and the day conspires to take the hole away.
I will wait for my soul to rest,
away from the casket and the mental distress.
And though I must watch I will not stare,
at those hurtful things that make life unfair.
I love you. I planted. Good seeds were sown.
And now it is time to leave you alone.
Sometimes in life, we cannot get our way. We don’t get to choose how God wants to manifest His love to us. Every good and perfect gift is from God. When you began to credit your love to the people in your life more so than God, you are stopping the flow of love from manifesting in your life. You can read more about this topic on this post.