Walking around, you don’t even need to convince yourself you’re all right
such is the layer upon layer, you don’t even see, until it creeps up and then
blocking out the sun, darkness invades sight and everything is at once, changed.
I am standing beneath awning, the sun is nearly out, it’s a windy day and the chimes in the back garden keep a steady sound
as I have always been, I am attached but not part of, another dynamic, a family with their own ways of doing things
I bend to learn and listen, I smile when expected, at times I think I feel comfortable with my toes dipped in
he has sorrow etched on his face though he is still young, his eyes betray him and a slight quiver in his mouth when
she clearly doesn’t care
I want to ask her, what happened to cause the rift, but everything is fragile and tenuous as if we are tiptoeing around
a sleeping giant
since childhood I learned to pick up on what to avoid and what to leave untouched, the manners of an outsider
accutely atuned to other people’s needs and emotions
not quite an empath, I can tell when they need time alone, if I should make myself scarce
and all at once I recall, aged eight or so, doing just the same, sitting on a cold flight of stairs for many hours
picking at my shoe laces, tying and untying them, making stories with crumbs and the wrinkles in my joints
hearing their argument echo through the thin door
I am good at placating, massaging egos, staying invisible when necessary and picking up the pieces afterward
her eyes are flashing, she puts on a pair of high heals and I can tell what she is thinking though she would never say
she wants to run and pack a bag and leave and find someone else, anyone else
and his need is as palpable as paint vapor, she is strangled by it and her own indifference
I want to ask; You loved each other once, where did it start to fall apart?
do you think they’d even remember now? Unlikely. Too many years building walls
to keep each other out, they forget in their effort, the beginning of them and how
happy they looked in that photo.
I want to tell her, you have everything you need here, I can see it in his movement, it is as if he acts out the ache he feels
I want to tell him, if it’s going to be this way forever, pack a bag, leave before your heart turns to dust
I want to save them and mend them, and make it right
for the sake of the child whose toys we pick up and put neatly away, as if that
will save anything, or stop him from one day remembering
the look in their eyes
Such sadness that we create with our words, actions, forgetting how we all need the same thing, yet we miss the boat somehow. Enjoy reading this.
The eyes are truly the windows to someone’s inner world.
Your words are touching heartfelt wrenching yet so beautiful.
This is a tremendous poem. The line breaks in this give it the disjointed feel of memory, a child’s memory, the guilt as if the child should have been able to make it all right. Children usually feel it’s all their fault, being acutely aware of the sadness but not being able to understand the ways in which two adults can hurt one another.
Will salvation from the paint vapor and indifference be found in the ether? I truly hope so. A blistering and beautiful piece. ~ Mia
A playlist starts to form. Two songs spring to mind, “When Doves Cry” (Prince) and “Tango Ballad” (Kurt Weill & Bertold Brecht, “Three Penny Opera”). I’m sure some thought would bring more, but those are their songs, those two. This, yours, is the song of the witness who sees it all and cares, beautifully.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – wanting to save them
Your last few lines, for me, were very poignant and moving, again my tissues are required.
“for the sake of the child whose toys we pick up and put neatly away, as if that
will save anything, or stop him from one day remembering
the look in their eyes”
So, so, so sad….. you have such a clear seeing heart, beautiful soul xo
❤️
I guess I lived something like that as a child too.
Thank you.
Brilliantly written…. and heart wrenching, ღ
Made my heart ache….
A superb description of the childhood training for empathy – many in the helping professions could identify
Sadness……
A beautifully expressed sadness, My Lady. heartbreakingly wonderful. ❤
Love the ability to capture mental health with an emphasis on spiritual awakening. I just wrote my first poem and can appreciate scholars like you who have mastered it.
You are far too kind and I’m very grateful to you 💓