Walking in Winter
I am cut off from myself.
A dividing line runs through me.
If you are looking for me, here I am– and here I am not.
Since 2005, when the cord was cut (first temporarily, then permanently), I shut a door.
I wedged it shut.
I went out for a walk in winter and I have not returned.
See? I am doing it now, even right now. Holding you away, an arm length away. You can feel it. I know it.
I used to sit and dump heavy buckets of my love and pain into letters: letters to friends, letters to lovers.
Now I am here and my letters are barely notes.
They are just snippets of anger, bits of advice, tiny rants, little in-jokes. They are cold.
I’ve been wandering and waiting for three years now, for a fresh snowfall, for an iceburn, and I am still waiting. I toss logs on the fire and circle myself with metaphors. The internal life is missing they tell me. They are right.
Being alone, made me alone. Not slower or simpler. Just aloner, and loster and goner.
And there are no snow tracks to follow back.
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You may be one sad mother but you sure have a wonderful way with words. When I’m sad all I can say is “I’m sad”. You have a wonderful talent and that should make a least one corner of you mouth curl. It does mine.
It’s not often I have nothing to say . . . and this is not one of them.
When my dad died of lung cancer my mom continued to write for a while . . . then it stopped.
Please continue to write, it is a very good way to . . “let it out”.
Things can build up to a boiling point, it can bury you, smother you, suck your life away to be consumed by darkness.
Especially this time of the year when sunlight rarely reaches your soul and darkness is able to wraps it’s arms around you.
Writing is a way to give darkness the finger, show darkness that it is YOU that are in charge.
—
survived by . .
You could have sent
a lightning bolt
a Mack truck
kinder than
wrenching off my wings
leaving me
crawling
in the sun
… EV Melotte
It’s red sky at morning this a.m., G. and it’s beautiful. Freezing rain predicted. Sometimes preciptation is a relief, just like a really hard cry.
Thanks for hanging out with me.
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