The Whisper

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Tags:
  • Broken
    • ,
  • Inner Self

    Poem Commentary

    I was diagnosed with CFIDS 15 years ago, a chronic, painful and dibilitating disease. It took away my life and I have had to create a " new normal." Being disabled has led me to turn my life in other directions, such as writing and learning not to have or to do, but just to be. This writing describes whats its like to be trapped in a body that doesnt work, and yet  still have the fervent wish to be well.    rg.

    The Whisper

     There are days … when you will call out my name and I will answer, I’ll be just the same.
    And there are days when I’m hidden away, and I can’t’ let anyone see me. What can that be?

    There are times that I will be the one for you to look to, I’m not overcome. And there are days that I almost stand strong, and I will let myself be known.

    Then, like a whisper, it takes me away. Like a tremble, I can’t be the same and I’m left here, like ash in the wind hanging so softly and unsteady.

    There are days…

    And I dream of life as it was, tall and strong, standing in the sun. Golden hair fell thick all around, and the sun, the wind, and the rain, we were one.

    I can almost feel her, once in a while and I can almost see her, here in my smile.
    And she is waiting, here in the wings, waiting and wanting to be seen.

    Then... Like a whisper, it takes me away, with no answers, I can’t be the same. Like a tremble, I’m helpless to fall into sleep. into tears. into the pain that fills me.

    Like a whisper, its all brushed away. With no answers, it was gone in a day. And lying here is all that I have and I can’t let anyone see me. What can that be?

    And yes, it has melted my soul and left me hollow, with nothing to hold. Where everyone, was afraid of the cold. I went where no one else would follow.

    There are days that I rise like the sun, and I’m hoping that this might be the one.And I’ll own it, leaving nothing undone and it seems that I might see her, that I might be her.

    And then…in a heartbeat, it all fades away, like a sweet dream, a watercolor in the rain. Like a childhood that we barely recall, and at the time there was such wonder in it all.
    And I’ve been sleeping my life away, and I was hoping, just hoping for the day.

    Then…like a whisper, she pulls at me sleeve and says “Come with me to the life left to lead." And like a heartache that never quite leaves, the one you can’t help but to return to.
    You still miss her… like a whisper.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    rg’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    The Whisper 0 12/01/2009
    Summer Rain 0 11/30/2009
    Back to a Rose 0 11/30/2009
    Like A River 0 11/30/2009
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