weight of words

  Sometimes I write things in the poignancy of a moment that make me smile or even laugh when I look back at them later. Such is the case with a poem I just found, written towards the end of December, after a guy named Bryan called and broke things off. We had been dating for a few weeks and I was excited about the relationship, excited about the future, excited about him. Then he called and ended things, before they were even official. I was stunned. But I moved on. A couple of weeks later and I was shrugging my shoulders and saying, 'Oh well. Life goes on. It simply wasn't meant to be.' So it makes me smile to find the poem, written in a quiet frenzy of trying to understand and be at peace, before the peace came (even without any understanding).

Weight Of Words  - 12.20.11 

It’s really amazing
how
one phone call
a few words
can take the luminous joy that has been growing brighter and stronger
and reduce it to the feeble light of a firefly
winking in and out, in and out, in and out.

“I don’t know how to say this …”
An ominous beginning
my heart catching in my throat
before sinking to my soles
(gravity always plays her part and usually has her way).
“I don’t see things working out, going any further.”
A simple, “Oh,” - all that I can muster at the news.

“I’m sorry,” he says.
When he called I was laughing as I ran up the stairs,
kneeling on the floor to plug in my phone before it died.
Now something else has died, and I am left
kneeling on the floor of my room
leaning against a swivel chair
for some sort of tangible support.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I say.
Thank you for hurting me now and not later.
“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,
getting to know you.”
“Me too, yes,” he says.
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”

The finality of it, so crushing
a weight of words
falling clumsily around me
Oh, but I still wish him well
Oh, but I too will be well
Oh, but see?
I’ll take these weighty words
and try to craft them into something better.