When we have had a
Fight
It doesn’t happen often
You know
I feel I am in a
Foreign country
Landing on unfamiliar
Soil
From some far away
Galaxy
Not knowing who I am
Where I belong
Feeling unlike myself
Inside the depths
Of mind of body
My heat remaining
Silent
It is not the words
My dear Love
I do not remember
Words
Do not listen to
Words
My distress rides
On the tone of voice
Used
To speak the words
My Achilles heel
Returning me to
Voices
I remember hearing
In childhood
That put me on the defensive
So around around around
We go you and I
Then it ends
It takes a small time
For me
To come back into my familiar
Self
Like stillness
After a storm passes
Before a bird begins to sing
Again
Beautiful.
Another beautiful poem, Mom!
I especially love the last few lines.
Thanks for sharing. Love, Andy
Wendy
This is a lovely poem, it strikes at the core because of its honesty. I can relate… So often it is not the words but tone, the implication…and I love the way you capture the need to regain the self, what is intrinsic to ones own being
So true, so lovely.