by willeya

i met this day fifteen hours ago yet still i have trouble saying goodbye.  like lovers being split by the war – the ship is leaving with our fingertips touching.  i want to erase goodbye from my story.  i want to talk you with you till morning, then listen to the sound of forks scraping plates and throats pulling down liquid – but not leaving.  let me sing you a song that never ends. let me grow old in your arms.  maybe it’s that i like you that much. maybe it’s that i’ve had too many endings before.

just write.

*** a word on all my poems as of late.  i told my mom that writing is becoming like praying.  with the chaos of work and home, it is the single activity that slows my mind to focus on one thing at a time, to be still enough to listen to my spirit and have God meet me there.  it is making this place more and more simple.  less like a sermon, more like a prayer.  this particular poem (if you can call it that) is my further processing about why it has been so difficult for me that my parents left, that our time is over.  i don’t like saying goodbye to anything, really.  atticus for the night.  ben for the day.  my clients for the week.  that sunset.  that tree. this day.  it’s always been a little quirk of mine, making me dreadfully late to everything.  but i am feeling more settled now and i am ready to say goodbye and goodnight.  to be on time for tomorrow.