One word… seven letters.
I always had this idea that to move on, to let go of the past, to put one foot in front of the other through the door called future, I had to have it- closure.
And I sought it, I chased it, I pled for it. Each time I thought I was close to it, closure merely opened a can-worm of emotions I had no idea still existed within me, no idea how to handle them.
The search for closure led me down a path I should never have tread, a path of hurt of pain of emotions I should never have felt again. And every single time, I still kept going back, for that closure. The person In me, never learnt.
I’m only now understanding, coming to the conclusion- closure isn’t a conversation that needs to be had, it’s not a word that needs to said or unsaid, it’s not a meeting which needs to take place, one last time.
Closure, simply is putting my big girl pants on, taking that big leap of faith through the door into the future with the ideology- Life starts now. And it doesn’t matter, whatever words lie behind the door which were never said, whatever final meeting which never happened, closure doesn’t have to come from an outside source.
The only closure I need, is the closure from within myself, to be able to say done and dusted, and mean it… closure comes from me.
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Welcome to another writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, where I share some of my favourite poems written by other authors. I have always loved the quote above my Maya Angelou and try to keep it at the back of my mind, always. It also goes with today’s poem, which is a narrative by Ernest Hilbert that runs on the simple theme that – love is blinding to some.
The main character is someone who should have ended up going to jail at the end of the poem, but rather, he was headed to the altar to get hitched. Like the last line said, “don’t try to understand what another person means by love”.
Here’s the poem below.
Domestic Situation by Ernest Hilbert
Maybe you’ve heard about this. Maybe not.
A man came home and chucked his girlfriend’s cat
In the wood chipper. This really happened.
Dinner wasn’t ready on time. A lot
Of other little things went wrong. He spat
On her father, who came out when he learned
About it. He also broke her pinky,
Stole her checks, and got her sister pregnant.
But she stood by him, stood strong, through it all,
Because she loved him. She loved him, you see.
She actually said that, and then she went
And married him. She felt some unique call.
Don’t try to understand what another
Person means by love. Don’t even bother.
I knew the love wasn’t there anymore, when he’d end with just “goodnight”. A sign so trivial, only a better half can be expected to notice- and I did.
Goodnight, he said simply. Without any accompaniment; no dear to lighten it, no honey to sweeten it. And I knew, it was only a matter of time before even the goodnight would vanish.
It wasn’t the ending that hurt. It was- watching everything evaporate right before my eyes, watching a marriage collapse, brick by brick. Seeing the sand grains float to the ground and knowing there was nothing I could do about it. He had made his choice… for us.
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You tell me it’s all fiction,
the poetry you write,
That reality is far fetched,
From the land your muse resides,
The so called “love” you’d written,
Are words without much heart,
And I wonder if you think back,
To the ring on your finger.
You’d ask of my opinion,
And of course I’d say it’s great,
But I wonder, don’t you think our love,
Is worth words on a page.
So I read through every single page,
With pulse at a heightened pace,
And wonder will this be the day,
Our love inspires poetry.
If I poured my soul in verses,
And stamped it in hearts,
Sent it to the places,
You lived since we parted,
Would you look back
For a moment,
At the memories we had,
The good and the bad,
With my words in your mind.
Would you take down the ring,
From the shelf it’s been standing,
Take a look at the pictures,
Of the babies we are having,
Would you look down your hand,
With my memories beside you,
Gaze at your fingers,
Knowing something is missing.
If I told you I’m sorry,
And we miss you in our family,
Would you give us a chance,
Or would you still leave me hanging.
If I poured my soul in verses,
And stamped them in hearts,
To bring back our family,
Would those words suffice…
He is the sun,
Reflecting light from afar,
Pulling one and all towards him.
He is the sun,
A ginormous creation,
Even from a distance.
He is the sun,
are the sky.
A vast entity of infinite
Atoms upon molecules;
In calm or adversity.
He is the sun,
But only for a while.
He maybe the sun,
You are the sky.
Your need never falls short.
Don’t let his shine,
Diminish your vast,
You- are sufficient.
When you decided,
We wasn’t worth the war,
My nights turned colder,
Than the December weather,
Soaked sheets became my partner
And gloom my constant shadow.
I was broken
And I showed it.
A man walked out before you,
I was six and I remember,
He’ll make an appearance.
I was six,
I learnt to mend me.
My atoms are made of
Brokenness and resilience,
And the stars at night I gaze at,
Remind me, of the light in darkness;
And my Lord,
Who saved me at six,
Wouldn’t leave me broken at thirty.
Understand- today I am grieving,
Tomorrow, will dawn a new scene.
Time for wallowing,
Time for fixing.
I believe the worst part of it all is wishing love in itself was enough, but knowing it’s not. Knowing, the same the way I know, even though the sun rises each day, it doesn’t mean it’s rays will illuminate the dark within; knowing although the storm doesn’t last forever, it is no guarantee that the destruction the storm leaves wouldn’t . In the same way, I know with certainty and clarity, without any reservations or second thoughts, that I love with you everything I’ve got, with everything I have to offer and more- but It still, would not be enough….
The above image is courtesy of Favim.com
If there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it is not to expect, from lovers or friends. Love leads to expectation, and inevitably, hurt. Tracing your words backward, I chose to love; It wasn’t much of a choice, I had already fallen. You said I was fragile, how I wish you weren’t right. How I wish my heart was a bounce ball, bouncing back after every squash. But it’s not and I’m fragile, like a mirror, like a glass. Never broken by a single smash, merely a compilation of cracks.
Here I am, now, in the present- a compilation of cracks no one would rather see, rather come close to. In fear of being cut, scarred. You tried to smash me into the wall so i’ll fall back in pieces, but I didn’t. I won’t. You May hurt me, crack me, imprint your scar In me- but you can’t break me. Or maybe I’m just unbreakable. Too frozen to be thawed.
In anyway, you’ve shown me one thing- how badly and desperately I am in need of magic. They say it’s a powerful thing. I need magic to taper down the scars you’ve left on my frail self. I need magic to remind me broken doesn’t mean damaged. I need magic in my life, to ease the hurt, to tame the fear of imprinting others the way you did. But mostly, I need magic to remind me, every moment your memory comes flooding back, why in the first place- i let you go.
I need magic to scream in my head, every time your face flashes back, why you are wrong for me in every possible way. I need magic’s reassurance that I am me and maybe that was too much for you to handle. I need magic to confirm what I already know, maybe letting go isn’t so bad after all.
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