Tag Archives: aloneness

The Other Woman

Every night I pray for her.
In my mind’s eye
I so clearly see her.
My platitudes ill advised,
meaningless . . .

How can I justify our God’s plan?
Why should I be free of need
and she have anything but?

I know it’s stereotyping
but her swollen belly children
deserve an accounting.

Soon she will be gone –
disease stealing her strength away.
They will be orphans -alone –
under a tattered canopy,
thrust into begging to survive.

Just one more parent gone,
one more family destroyed
one more ten year old
parenting a large brood
under the blazing sun.

Why she – why me –
I who have nothing to give,
intimately knows every wrinkle
worn of care . . .

But I am here
babbling words to our Father
as she dies bit by bit
under the African sun
in a refugee camp
alone . . .

Words to live by?

“In all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other”
Carl Sagan

Is it true? For you, for me? I live a world of aloneness and many times m distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of a group of people. I’m not sure if I’m always comfortable with just one person. Aloneness does that to you. It takes the need for others and twists it into almost a fear of others. Or, maybe just an out of touch displacement in communication, in touching, in hugging.

There are many people I care about, I just don’t know what to say to them. There are people I dearly love and I can find myself stumbling over words, chiding myself over the sarcasm I often use as humor.

I know I need others, but at a much less degree it seems others do. The vastness of space enthralls me. Sure, wormholes which zoom us from point A to point B in the next galaxy are great but, with the exception of computers like HAL that take over spaceships, I think I might like a long voyage into space.

And yet, I found myself planting an Easter lily at my parents’ graves today because I miss them; even though our paths were often torturous. Aloneness is a curious thing. The second you realize you haven’t seen anyone else for a day, you feel a longing for connection. So I guess Carl Sagan is correct – to greater or lesser degrees.

Within and beyond

Everything crowds in,
the noise, the clamor of people
moving through their lives,
touching but untouched,
feeling but not felt,
somnambulists in a dance
of private reckoning,
cascading into aloneness,
remote, isolated,
awash in the debri
of scattered necessities,
one thing rising upon
the ashes of another,
over and over again,
as we drift through
our separate realities
thinking, deceptively,
that we are connected.

The voices of others
chafe beneath my skin,
their needs, expectations,
burdens upon which I dwell
in meaningless observance.
Their voices drown my own,
grate, chafe.
Their voices drown my own,
grate, overwhelm,
and the voice within cries
for peace, solitude, relief,
from the unending stream of demands.
Yet still I wonder
if it is all those voices
which are burdening me so,
or just the echo within
of unsolvable problems,
which knaw at me,
day after blinding day,
in unending procession.
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