Hello My Darling
One of your many gifts is your poetry. My heart swelled with pride when, after fourteen and a half years, I got to hear about the awards you had won and the journals that had published your work. I am many things but one thing I am not is a poet. I lack your skill for succinct brevity. I therefore really don’t know why I decided to jump right in to the depths of these waters, familiar to you but treacherous to me. I don’t write poetry. The last time I even attempted it would have been in high school. I have contributed to the lyrics of a number of songs but they were nothing more than a series of rhyming couplets.
When you restabilised contact I penned you these verses. It was probably triggered by my reading of your own excellent work. No doubt there was a level of conceit thinking that I could mimic your efforts. I am a little frightened to even put this out there as I feel it unworthy by comparison. But here it is. The piece I wrote for you. I can see its weaknesses, its inconsistencies and its structural flaws. Please forgive me all of those things. I hope you can see the heartache and the love.
You Will Always Be My Darling
From Sir With Love
.
It was a bright, autumnal Utah day
A girl, a woman, a lady
Walked into a room
Into my life
Her spirit, indomitable
Her self confidence, unbreakable
Her wit, unassailable
.
But beneath her carefully coiffed façade
For those who cared to look, dared to look
She was hurting, grief struck, broken……..almost
Her outer shell was but flaking lacquer
Brittle, turning at the edges
In the harsh Utahan sun
.
I turned my head and offered up a gentle smile
Then closed my hand on hers,
Why? Just because
She looked up somewhat startled
She thought to raise her ire
Quick as a flash she changed her mind
A smile, then on with the show
.
Her hand, well I can feel it still
It radiated warmth
But through it I could sense her grief
Her incomprehension, her loss
I knew no salve to heal such ill
So I offered up my ear and listened
Then talked, and listened more
.
The days turned to weeks
The weeks into a year
The room could not contain us
No telephone line long enough
Two cities were but inconvenient
Two states, a mere annoyance
Then two continents, one big ocean
Almost enough, but hardly
She sang, she soared she radiated goodness, beauty, light
I basked in her glory, her adoration, her splendour
.
I could not get enough
We bonded on all levels
First comedically, then intellectually
Emotionally, even spiritually
Then at last
And with passion not known before or since
Physically
.
She was healed now
Not better, certainly stronger, and just a little different.
She had the strength to make some plans
She held my antipodean hand and told me she was mine
I cried with joy
I sang and shouted
Oblivious of the pain to come
The pain that I would cause
.
Then…….the room was empty
The telephone line was silent
An artificial construct came between us
I thrashed, I wailed, I fought with all my might
I thought I could control it
How wrong was I?
I took a wrecking ball and across the ocean I did hurl it
She never saw it coming
I broke the thing I loved the most……almost
.
I brought the circus with a side show to my town
I the ringmaster in my own demise
The clowns did not distract me
But the witches cast a wicked spell
I succumbed to weakness, vile and petty
Deluded, ignorant, shrill
While an ocean away
The creature that I adored most
I loved her as I have loved no other
I still do
Lay battered, bleeding, bruised
Broken…..almost
.
For fourteen years I walked the wilderness
Taking comfort where I could
False prophets everywhere
They took my goods and chattels
The last vestige of my dignity, my self belief, gone
The sign posts were forlorn reminders
Flagging careless actions of a wasted life
Sadness, loss, remorse, regret
They led the way
They were my dim, dull, dark light
.
Then a hand reached out
She thought jaded, I thought pure
She turned her head and gave a gentle smile
And covered mine with hers
I was startled, manic, frightened
She calmed my nerves, dispelled my fears
Gave me a love I did not deserve
.
I had hurt her, it was clear to see
But her pure heart, still sought to heal me
Her great tormentor lay distraught
A shell, a shadow, an echo of his former self
I looked at her with fear and amazement
“How could I have let such a thing of beauty ever leave my sight?
How could I have been so blind to what I had?
How could I have hurt this precious creature?”
Who even after all the heartbreak and the pain
Could find it in her heart to love me still
Want to heal me
Make me whole again
.
Well I am hers now
But….will she ever be mine?
A man, flawed but always there
A man who waited
A man that I was better than, or so I thought
Had held her hand, then carried her on his shoulders
As she traversed the desolation
That had been my parting gift to her
.
Today we travel on a new road
An unchartered path
I try to explain
Then she heals me just a little more
And I hope in my small way
I heal her a little too
I am brave enough to look once more
Into her deep brown eyes
I search to find the hatred, revenge, disgust that must be there
Sure I see the hurt, but there is forgiveness
Even love
Will I ever see her trust again?
Will my betrayal ever be washed away?
It’s more than I deserve, but still……..
.
For fourteen years I carried a flame
Naked and pure for a woman I so wantonly destroyed
Will there be forgiveness? Yes
Reconciliation? Yes
Happiness, Laughter, Joy?
Yes, yes, yes
Will there even be love?
It amazes me still but I think the answer to be ……. yes
.
But…….Will I ever see her smile at me again?
Will I ever hold her hand again?
Or even better hold her in my loving arms
Will she lie beside me as I sleep?
Cover me when I am cold
Care for me when I am ill
.
Will I ever get to gaze upon her beautiful eyes once more?
Will she get to hear me whisper “I love you” in her ear?
I fear not, my time has passed
That pain it is now friend
I of course know that truth
It is both just and fair
.
But I wouldn’t be a man at all
If when it’s dark, when it’s cold and when I’m lonely
When I hear the siren song of the demons in my head
When they call to me
Calling out my long list of ills
The list that is my very torment
How could I not?
Why should I not?
Have one last deluded dream
That one day, one day
She will once more say she will be mine
Dare I hope………………………?
.
By Sir © 2013 TSL
The Sir Letters 