Freeverse Poetry

You Are In My Arms For Now

About The Passage Of Time

Why does the time go so fast?

I’m sitting on a stool in front of a home bar. In front of me, I see the figures of my family cooking dinner.

I am listening to the voices around me. Listening to my family. We are lingering over conversations and chatter. At once I see anger, then pride, then conciliatory accommodations. Whimsical poking and prodding of the language variety.

We are all here, but soon we will all be gone, tucked into beds, rising with the waking morning.

With the recent passing of my mother and my grandmother I cannot but someday each one of us will be in our graves. Some sooner than others.

It’s a macabre and dreamy thought and I hate myself so deeply for being so deeply enmeshed in the sentimentality of the moment. It’s aching hate and emptiness that controls my deepest self.

Where does the time go?

When I was twelve years old and sitting in my grandmother’s den, on the carpet in front of the television, watching a VHS tape, I believed I could understand the depth and concept of time.

I see that the privilege of youth afforded me only a small taste of the bigger picture.

Innumerable moments, minutes, minutiae have passed, as well as so many family members. Now in my thirties, I still wonder at the passage of time.

I cling to my husband at night, holding him as close to me as possible. The soft light of the moon caresses his skin and I kiss him over and over until my lips are pink and he hugs me close.

I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want this moment to pass.

And yet I know one day I will have to. One day I will stand over his grave or he will stand over mine. And I’m not ready to face it.

I have stood over the grave of my mother. Of both my grandmothers. The pain was intolerable.

How can one simply move on after such pain?

And yet time goes on.

I must fill these moments with the love and fervor of a thousand years if I am to feel fulfilled.

If nothing means anything, then at least I can touch, feel, emote, and live, as well as I can.

And if I can’t, time still will not wait for me.

And now is the time for us to part. But we will meet again, one day.

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