Just an Island

(I started writing this last night while in a deep funk. I have climbed up a little, but my fingers just can’t get a grip on the rim)

I am alone; utterly, completely, and absolutely alone. I know this is not the case, but try telling that to my heart; have my heart tell it to my head; have my head tell it to my soul. I’ll bet you that somewhere in the information process between those parts of myself, communication will break down. Like the game of “Pass it on”, by the time it gets to my soul, the words will have lost their meaning and will have changed to something dissonantly different than the original statement.

One is the loneliest number. I have heard that in song in the over-exaggerated statement of “a million times”. One stands alone. The only number less than one is zero, and to be zero must be even lonelier…and to be less than zero, well, that must be the ultimate in loneliness.

I don’t even know why I am feeling like this. I must be in a “backwards step” point. I have lots of friends and even more acquaintances. I have two beautiful children whom I love with all my heart. I have family within minutes of my house and even more on the other end of a telephone call. But at this moment in time, they are not with me. No one is with me.

I feel as if I have lost so much. I know I have lots of stuff. I have things that I have always wanted; things to call my own. Stuff fills the void between nothing and everything. But stuff doesn’t bring you comfort when you are down. Stuff doesn’t tell you that you are important. Stuff can’t give you love.

I had someone who I care a lot about tell me (and I paraphrase), “It's just STUFF... my health (physically, emotionally, and spiritually) is most important. If I do not have that, I cannot be a good parent, citizen, friend, companion, you name it. I can't BE anything for anyone else unless I take care of myself in those three main areas…there's nothing at all to worry about. Like I said before, life is good. Do what you gotta do, and look for the positive in everything. It IS there, only to be seen and gleaned from.”

Now, since it is just “stuff”, I would trade everything I own to have a certain someone back in my life. I would give it all freely just to have the love of my life back in my life, not in the way that she is in my life now…but back to the way it was. And not even back to the way it was, really. The “way it was” was not the way it should have been, apparently. No, I should say back to the way it should have been.

How should it have been? I don’t know exactly. I guess it should have been just like what is said in wedding vows, although even they seem to come from fairy tales as well. For better or for worse; through thick and thin. That means that whatever came our way, we were to take it head on, push through whatever was tearing us down, build up our love as strong as a great wall and repulse the invading hordes of trials and tribulations that attacked that wall. It means that we were to love each other enough to communicate our wants, desires, pains, and disappointments to each other, and work together to get through whatever came our way. That’s what is should have been.

I was with my kids and ex tonight. It was kindergarten orientation and ice cream social at my daughter’s school (and next year, it will be my son’s as well). I saw her in the auditorium, sitting near the front. The principal was taking the kindergartners away to play while we adults had our orientation. I walked up to where she was and sat down beside her. Her hair was up in the back, she was wearing a dress that I had seen her wear many times before. She was so pretty. I just wanted to scoop her up, tell her how much I loved her, and just be. But I knew I couldn’t…I wouldn’t…and she wouldn’t either. Later, she was ahead of me and I just couldn’t stop thinking how pretty she was, how much I missed her, and remembering…I don’t know why I remembered this, but on our wedding day, I apparently kept touching her rear. I was nervous and I was probably doing it subconsciously, and didn’t even know it. But when we finally saw our wedding video, sure enough, I was touching her butt every now and then, plain as day. Right there in front of parents, friends and family. Oh well.

Something else I was thinking about. The other day, she was the one who slipped and called me “baby”. Not just once, but twice. I made fun with the first one and said, “Huh? What did you say?” But the second time I didn’t even let her know that I had heard her. It made me sad to hear it, but happy at the same time. Why sad? Because I knew it was just a slip. Fifteen years of terms of endearment are hard to get rid of. I know. I know so much. Why happy? Because the simple slip gave me the feeling that she did care for me still. Not enough to make it matter so much, but enough to know that she doesn’t resent or hate me. That feels so good.

Wow. I can really get sidetracked. That is not what I intended to write about at all. But I gotta go with the flow and it was flowing from me. Loneliness. That is what I was talking about. I feel lots of lonely days ahead of me. I thought that I had this funk kicked. I thought that I had finally risen above the zero mark and was steadily getting ready for some mathematics...namely, addition. But I seem to suck at math lately. In my life, 1 +1 does not always equal 2. The equation is more like 1+1=2-1=1. But at least it is not zero. Tonight, my son, doing his counting and addition thing I mentioned before, tells me, “Zero is nothing”. There is no way that he knew what was going on in my mind and what I had already put down here in this writing. I held back the tears and told him yes, that zero is nothing. It is nothing and it never will be anything. No matter how hard you try, or no matter what you do, zero will never be one. It will never be more than what it is. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. It will never be more until something is added to it.

On another note, I am proud to say that a poem that I posted on a peer-critiqued website has been number one in it’s category since the day I posted it. I think that is pretty good, for a sub-par writer such as myself. The meaning behind it is for you to come up with for yourself. I know what I was thinking when I wrote it, but you can have your own meaning. I’ll post it and then give a link to the rest of what I have posted there. Feel free to visit and read, or just ignore if you wish. I don’t care one way or the other.

Broken Promise

A man, passing a certain point
on a certain sidewalk,
looks back,
reflects upon his being
and is beset by memories.

The sweet fragrance of her perfume;
Her hair, like silken scarves.
The touch of her body with skin so soft.
All taken away but a lifetime too soon.

And a promise to never love again…

He tries to forget what he has remembered
but the floodgates open wide,
pouring out into a paramount vision
of his life without living.

He sees her in the clouds
(They form her silhouette)
He hears her voice in the night
(The wind carries her song)
He feels her in his very soul
(Yearning to break free)

Tears flow, his vision is obscured by hazy clouds.
He sees her in the gloom ahead.
Is it her? He can’t tell.
She turns around, face full in front
of his tear blurred sight.

No, it isn’t her
but she is there.

It happened so fast, he doesn’t believe.
He wouldn’t let go he steadfast truth
that love cannot live
after pain, suffering and grief
have left signs of passing.

But not now.

Inside his heart a feeling begins to break
the chains of self-pity
imprisoning him for so long.

They are wrenched apart,
torn,
broken,
and bleeding.

The promise breaks free from it’s cold,
dark prison and flies away,
blown on the breeze to fall
unnoticed to the street.

And this man takes her hand in his.
He had found his love again; he would never let it go.

“Do you love?” she whispered,
and whirling around, whisked him into
the still, cold night;
laughing, then falling silent.

Tooting my own horn here; nine of my poems and essays are in the top five in their respective categories. The website is at Helium.com

Good night folks.