February, 1996
February's poem was one that is requested just as much as the 'fun' verses whenever I open the manuscript book. It's a chance, occasionally, for me to publicly tell one or two people how much I appreciate them.
For all the things that may happen to us in life, divorce is perhaps the worst .. certainly at the time. The death of somebody close involves a terrible loss and inevitable grief .. and in that sense the loss of a once-held dream and a one time friend means that death and divorce have much in common. Yet the end of a relationship has other emotions too. There is blame and sometimes hatred .. a sense of failure too. And then there is the unexpected secondary loss, as networks of friends take sides, or depart from your life altogether .. unsure suddenly of how to cope with a single person with painfully obvious needs, where once there was a couple supposedly reliant on each other.
Perhaps it's little wonder then that the end of a relationship takes so long to get over.
This poem was written the night when .. several years after the event .. I realised that I had finally recovered. It started as I was getting ready for bed .. and took form so fast that to write it down was almost like taking dictation. In a sense I sometimes wonder, in fact, whether it was I who wrote it .. or whether the words came from somewhere else.
Whatever the case, it's a piece which I now always pass on to people going through a loss .. and I'm told it helps. Those who've come through often go quiet and nod, too. So maybe it's captured something essential about the experience.
If you think it's depressing though, then consider the title .. and the form. It's about a personal and very lonely descent into despair, yes... But there's a turning point and a celebration of our ability to return from that brink too. And, in that sense, it's ultimately a poem of hope.
If you should ever need to take the journey, then make sure that yours is a return ticket too.
Divorce was wretched, nearly fatal Losing friends, a home, a future Grateful for the few, who knew Who understood, and tried To be near and reach out When I cried. Days, made long by hours, formed weeks And loss, made worse when no-one speaks... The 'phone ? .. it hardly ever rung And when it did I could have sung Only disappointed again, The same "Oh me? I'm fine" refrain Echoing in my heart after the call And once again alone, in the hall Weeks made months and seasons passed With minor triumphs lost in vast And never ending tracts of gloom All swallowed by that sense of doom. And those who cared could only Shake their heads and say "I'm worried, will she be OK?" "Is she all right to leave alone?" Perhaps it's best they hadn't known How tempting in the dead of night it was To throw the towel, the fight... I cannot say for certain when it passed And when sweet sanity at last Began to win back ground again. But slowly it began to change... The seasons coming round seemed brighter To this near exhausted fighter And pleasures near forgotten, lost Began to melt the winter's frost And spring this time could warm my soul The shattered jewel once more made whole. Self respect began to show I grew my nails... began to know The things I had achieved were mine And some wounds can be healed in time. And ... growing bolder every day A rediscovered sense of play Permitted me to advertise At last I'm free of history's ties.. Till now you would not know, to look How close a step to death I took In time I probably will forget The blackness that was with me, yet I'll not forget the people who By how they listened saw me through. The precious few who didn't scatter The real friends who will always matter Who didn't try to organise my life Or seek to trivialise the strife They'll know their names, as I do too And I dedicate these thanks to you.
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January's poem
March's poem
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