A poem I wrote 7 years ago when my marriage ended. Just found it today. Not exactly Pulitzer material but I wanted to store it here.
It breaks with traditional rhyme scheme but sounds better when I read it.
We launched our dreams
upon the open sea
Not sure if they were real
or a fantasy.
At first, the passion
kept our love alive
but those jagged rocks
could not be denied
Torn apart -
our tattered sails askew
I asked the question
"What more can I do?"
It's not a question of
who is wrong or right.
It takes courage
to let go without spite.
There'll always be fear
in the face of change
When being alone
comes into range.
I fought so hard to save
what was doomed from the start
We danced the Paso Doble
before we drifted apart.
You know I would stay
if there was hope.
I've begged you for reasons
while at the end of my rope
But you have crossed
that line that I drew.
In the past I would stretch it
when I said we were through.
All of those times
in secret I'd pray
that you'd fight for our love
but you continued to stray.
When you can't bridge a gap
that widens each day.
There must come a time
when a price will be paid.
My experience has ever been that love is at least fickle, at best an illusion. Love predicates attachment, something that is a sure-fire prelude to some sort of final Gotterdammerung act of tragic desperation. IMO, the best we can do is strive to NOT attach to anything on two legs that is halfway attractive, since too much attachment brings the certainty of romantic 'wiggle-room', a status no human state of intense affection may ever survive (nor has it ever). Lovely Chanti Chianti deserves better, methinks. The poem is expressive, but never give up the ship!
PS: While I was in the Middle east, I had a wonderful friend from Capetown who opened my eyes to your fellow countryman's book 'Disgrace' (JM Coetze)and to his other books, as well. South Africa is an amazing place, despite all the sad elements of its struggle to thrive equally under the sun with other nations. A hui hou, K2
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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PS: While I was in the Middle east, I had a wonderful friend from Capetown who opened my eyes to your fellow countryman's book 'Disgrace' (JM Coetze)and to his other books, as well. South Africa is an amazing place, despite all the sad elements of its struggle to thrive equally under the sun with other nations. A hui hou, K2