THINGS SHE SAID

So many words passed between two hearts to last a lifetime. And long before I found my rhyme, I found truth in the things she said. She saw me as something I never saw in myself, this spritely elf of a girl with her up turned nose and bright brown eyes that rose to meet mine when my own nose touched hers. She said, “You have too much heart for one girl, and yet you give it to me alone.” And all the love that shone in her eyes said all that she needed to say.

She developed her Anorexic affliction, which became her addiction of diet drinks and urges to purge breakfast, lunch and dinner. I should have had a hunch. She said she was fine and my mind accepted her lie. Again with those eyes, I could not find the words to say. Right up until the day her parents drove me away. She was left with nothing to say.

Years of tears and fears and the “grief” of losing her to the grip holding tighter than I, took their toll on a soul who loved her more than she’d know. It would start a series of new beginnings and endings, mendings and breakings. And then again, she would say goodbye.

More grief to consume me, a doom worse than a thousand deaths, being left to live with the specter of her in constant memory that would burn until her last return. She said she was sorry for our every story that ended in pain. She said she’d never leave me again. She said she would love me until the day she died. And she said one last thing. She said she was dying.

Acceptance will come
in the breath of last goodbyes,
as she closed her eyes

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge: Day 2 – “He Said, She Said”

HE SAID, SHE SAID

He said, “Good Morning! A lovely day isn’t it?”
She said nothing and smiled.
He said, “ I hope you’re feeling better today!”
She said, “I’d be doing much better if you’d leave me alone!”
He said “Fine!” and walked away

Days passed, sight unseen
and it had been
as long since they “talked”
as long as he’d walked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello.” He knew who it could be when
She said, “I’ve been thinking!”
He said he felt like he had been drinking
She said, “ I have this sinking feeling I’m falling!”
He said he knew there was a reason she was calling!

Seconds passed, he took a breath
Needing to say something, and yet
He needed the nerve,
Was she throwing a curve?

A bell rang…

He said, “I noticed your number. You’ve been calling…”
She said to herself, “He’s stalling”
He admitted saying, “I’m stalling. I’m not sure…”
She said, “I’m sorry I bothered you!’
He said “Fine!” put the phone away.

Weeks passed, sound unheard
And it had been
So absurd when they “talked”
As long as he’d balked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello?” He wasn’t sure she would call back,
She said, “Look I admitted my feelings…” her head was reeling,
He said, stealing her thunder, “Don’t you wonder what I’d say?”
She said, “The day when I went away? Yes” she said to her dismay!
He said by the way, “I’m not sure… but I think I’m falling too!”

Minutes passed, he was gassed
And it had been two miles
He had run to see her smile.
It was the longest while.

The doorbell rang!

She said, “What do YOU want?
He said “We were falling…”
She said “I feel sick again. It appears I was calling…”
He said sadly, “…the wrong number?”
She said, “Yes. But I guess since you’re already here, d’you have time for a beer?”

The bottle was passed, they were gassed
It seems they had a good time
And it cost not a dime.
Now they meet every Tuesday, same time!

A Wedding ring?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

SIBLING REVELRY

More than five times have I been blessed,
from my vantage point, the middle man.

Two sisters and four brothers
all offspring of the same mother,

all with their quirks and styles,
(everyone with Dad’s smile) and

a completely separate branch on the family tree,
foliage gone, but the rings around the trunk

assure a longevity; a brevity in the span
of this vast universe so created, and elated

that we have come to reconnect at a time
where the incredible shrinking surname

wanes towards obscurity. A factual surety
that frames this portrait with love and understanding

no longer demanding and pompous, an enormous relief
in the belief that in assuming the mantle left behind

we will find our footing and map out new ground,
profound in the knowledge of our origin and happy

we were afforded the opportunity to flex our wile,
while never straying far from our connection.

Joseph, your history is our mystery. Not around long enough
to make a blemish, although leaving your mark on our fabric.

Cynthia, queen mother so assumed, groomed for the position
of matriarch with enough of a spark to be yourself.

Paul, sure and independent, most reticent to belong,’
too strong for your own damn good, a marvel with wood.

Tim, wild and free, determined to take life by the throat
and squeeze every ounce out of its living.

Ken, backbone in question, but heart always in place,
a face only a mother could love, (and she could have been jiving!)

Laurie, a singular soul, her only attachments are her siblings
and her felines, straddling the fine line of “Crazy Cat Lady”.

Where does that leave me? Walt the word guy, know-it-all,
writing the script that skirts dysfunction for the joy our bond provides.

NaPoWriMo 2016: Day Two: Family Portrait