I didn’t want to, but I did
Held it, held it –yes, that’s it! – until it faded
When it went, no one missed it
No one noticed its non-presence
It’s there in a flash, an instant
It’s more real sometimes than me
It’s what’s expected; it’s polite
It’s what we do
It’s a function of space and time, dancing to its own rhythm.
Who could have guess that this Goddess (when plastered)
Does more damage than Melancholia himself?
If it’s not real: Fake it!
You’ll make it, in the end.
Today, I can’t summon it
Can’t make my lips obey
Today, the sky is grey
We’re all falling fast, into fall
Today, I’m a leave, wanting to leave but hoping I’ll be anchored.
Today, I walk on the graveyard
Stopping to tuck stray beads back onto the graves of grandmothers
Lingering by the father who had to bury every one of his three sons
Stroking the stone face of handsome Henry, who went to war
leaving parents behind that – for forty years! – still believed in love.
Today, I feel the sadness of being alive
Today, I’m alive, alive with the knowledge
that sadness is the glue that make a life.