writer's write

so i guess, you are a writer if you write.

i never considered myself a writer because in happiness i am a word desert.
cut me, make me bleed and the force of my misery opens wide the floodgates of the word.

am i miserable at the moment? hell yeah!
what or who caused this anxt, this unease, this painful sense of loss?
why who else but me, myself!

five years ago i met the one who should have been my future and my happily ever after.
i stress should have ...
i, myself was so busy dragging around left over luggage from my previous excursion into a relationship that i completely neglected the present in which i found myself.

i think too much. often times i think too much of me, myself and not enough of those delightful, delicate and occasionally difficult souls who have chosen to share their life's journey with me!

an interesting concept ...
but as i am attempting to write instead of over thinking i will move on.

so there i was, loaded down with relationship luggage, a thoroughly confused, arrogant and let's admit it - oft' times selfish human being.

being human is our reason for existence, we are born unknowing and therefore innocent. our journey begins, skills are achieved, facts are learned and emotions experienced. we acquire knowledge but not necessarily wisdom.
wisdom takes time.
the lessons of life, the pain of failure, of loss, the heady draft of success, the joy of loving and being loved. the realization of one's own mortality.
the confusion caused when one comes to understand that being wrong is a human condition and that sincere apologies will not always right the wrong we have caused.
these are the basics, only the beginning of the path to wisdom.

so, it appears, i have been a little side tracked and wandered into the realm of ... waxing philosophical.

back to me, myself and the unfolding enigma of my life.

the animal doctor and i spent the next five years co-habiting and sometimes not. we were different in so many ways and i often felt an urge, a desire to be free of the chains of intimacy and co existence - i am an idiot.
now i am not attempting to give the impression that the animal doctor was perfect in every way. hell no! definitely not perfect but pretty damned patient and, in love with me, myself.

until one day i left, again, quite sure that i was so neglected and ignored, convinced that the animal doctor was totally self absorbed and quite unworthy of me, myself.  that was the last time i would haul my self righteous arse out of our mutual home! the animal doctor did not want me back. the desire for self preservation had evidently kicked in.

too late i am come to realize that what we had, had value beyond pride, beyond self interest. what we had was a little magic. a coming together of two souls in a lonely world. we had forever and i fucked it up.

there is always hope. hope of forgiveness, hope of friendship, even hope that love will triumph one last time.

hope is a thought, an emotion, a far journey from the reality of what is.
in all these years i have learned a little wisdom. i have learned that the acceptance of 'what is' is the only path to peace.
my objective is peace.
the journey forward, the road to acceptance is pain and loss, the keening wail of regret come too late.

and so i write again.

the haunting

and so the haunting begins

unable to reach out and hold

the yielding warmth of beloved flesh

you stalk my dreams

so real my mind constructs you

that when I wake, I turn to find you

reminded over and again

of the final emptiness

my life without you

and you should never doubt

that you are loved

complete and whole for who you are

and I the fool

who realized too late

that love is more than place and time

love is the shared dream of tomorrow

love is the instant shared

love is yesterday forgiven

all less than perfect

overlooked for the sake of forever

for who would plead for perfection

when they had love

copyright © 2016 by Eryll Oellermann

of cardboard construction

I wonder why I spend so much of my life

going back when I knew better

that is how it was for me

the desire to leave and then the need to return

to try again to read with understanding

the book I had so carelessly opened

the book so stilted and full of secrets

which I in my delightful arrogance

sought to understand

fought to uncover the depths which must be there

hidden perhaps by fear and rage

until one day I understood

the mask was all there was

and when it fell

I saw into the empty eyes of hell

alien beyond belief

without mercy or compassion

a creation entirely constructed to protect

nothing

I had shared five years of my life

with a shadow of the missing

wisdom come late is still wisdom

I turned on my heel and sped away

from the uninhabited depths of those eyes

gone, the need to return

I took the blade and probed memories held

and cut them free

as I tore from my heart what was left of love

in the spaces of my mind

a card board construction coffin like

for that which I must cut adrift

I looked down upon that face, once dearly loved

unhappiness writ deep into the lines of life

I whispered low, goodbye

and set her free to travel where they go

these people of the shadow

and from my shoulders rose …

the weight of trying

and I so light so once more young

felt freedom almost forgotten

I smiled

Copyright ©  Eryll Oellermann 2016