Poetry | Emotions coming home again
Reflections
Truth Hurts
Had this ache the other day, it came early and left late. Introduced himself and lit a cigarette; blue smoke rising up to the ceiling.
Truth, he offered, extending a hand. Been away for a while, seems a lot of people are mad at me now.
Could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Could say I understand, but I don’t.
They need me, I don’t need them. They want my conversation – But I’m all talked out.
Said it all, you see and said it first – But no one was listening then. Not to me.
He stubbed out his cigarette And went quiet for a while Then gave me his address And said goodbye.
Grief
He doesn’t listen, not anymore. Just talks and talks like it’s him or nothing. Talks on like no one has anything to say.
Pokes his finger, jabs it here and there. Points to where he’s going and shouts out when he’s there.
Doesn’t listen, not to me. Mouth moving, eyes fixed, like a man possessed, And about to break free.
It’s his passion I guess, something he longs to be, so, I’ll sit here listening, till he sets me free
Call Waiting
Been on hold, for three years now. Music playing - mostly out of key.
Been waiting for an answer for a chance to engage - for a message from my dad from 1963.
The music stops playing, heard a click, then a voice, You can keep on waiting Or leave a number I’ll call you back.
Took a chance And said hello, Can you hear me, dad it’s me, your son Joe?
Lost your number, found it then. Would love to hear your voice again – Anytime day or night Just call me dad, I’ve got call waiting.
Emotions are funny things. They often find us in the oddest ways. Dead-heading roses and a call from the past comes in and sets us back on our heels. Watching TV, a show about rebuilding a barn, and tears roll down our cheeks, telling us what exactly? I stopped resisting long ago. If they want to tell me something — I’m listening.