Why is it, that with all my fears, failings and inadequacies,
I am not sucked down into the cold, wet vortex of despair?
Why, with all my guilt, can I sit at my desk
and play with my cat at two o’clock in the morning,
exhilarated by the gentle sounds of night,
breathing poetry of others
and ablaze with joy at my near solitude?
Why, even in the revealing light of day,
do I love my barren life so ardently?
What is it that I share continually
with you
for so long
without you?
And how did the searing pain become only a dull bruise
which I prod to keep alive and cherish with unabated joy?
Why can I not envy the shallow rich, no matter how hard I try?
Why is it that my life is so rich and blessed and full?
What is it that I have,
that no-one else seems to share,
or want to?
And why
is nobody
bathed
in wonder
at what it is
to be me?
(August 1998)
the searing pain that became only a dull bruise that you prod to keep alive and cherish with unabated joy? I recognise that state of being. Better that you look back and remember that joy than look forward and forget.
Diana, I loved this one! From the times we do cry into the kitty's fur, all night, to the times when we dizzily dance down the street at noontime for no apparent reason at all...life IS a gift, and hey, it must be nice for you to be you...as it is for me to be ME! Rejoice! !
Thank you for the vote, Lisa. No, that is not what I was saying, at all. I was talking about my passion for every sphere of my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this poem! It's really well written and very powerful words! I would say it's because you found beauty in the breaking. You're content with who you are and what you have! That is the sort of wealth we ought to be working for! ! Great stuff Diana!