#waxing poetic

The sun has returned
and your arms are once again
far from mine.
The cold air wafts in
and your warmth no longer
blankets me.

Yet with every parting
my heart is fuller
for the time we shared
and my soul is surer
that we will find our way
to each other’s side
repeatedly
until the day
we stay.

plans and dreams
will carry us along
until the day we realize
we’re already living them

The last time I walked these paths
with this kind of chill in the air,
I was a seeker.

I wasn’t sure just what I sought–
what all of us seek, I imagine:
belonging, acceptance, understanding.
I found it in drips and drabs along my journey,
enough to keep me plodding onward,
despite the occasional step back.

I defined myself by the search.

As I walk here again this night,
with the cool fall air stinging my throat,
I’m aware that I have changed,
that I need to redefine myself.
A seeked-er? A searched-er? A sought-er?

I couldn’t have said what I was looking for, exactly,
but I can say now, unequivocally,
that it was you
and the found-er you’ve let me become.

Your reaction made me feel I’d helped
when I said our ability to deal
with emotional upheavals
works the same as our muscles:
that new woes stretch and tear at us,
and though the loads may never lighten
we eventually grow strong enough
to carry them.

This soreness in my arms
from helping you move away
is a fitting reminder that you are gone.
It hurts
but I will be stronger
for the pain.

What was enough yesterday
seems no longer so.

I distract myself from what’s missing
with true and honest joy,
but the quiet moments are full
of so much silence
and longing.

When I wonder why
I’m not compelled to write
of all the things I feel for you
I realize:

poetry doesn’t sound the same
through a mouth that’s smiling