Facsimile – dVerse Poetics


I’m not as resilient as I used to think

I am hollowed out and my mouth

is emptied when I most need to speak.

Fear steals my words and amplifies my thoughts –

the worst-case scenarios

the shadows

the insecurities

the ghosts

they haunt me

when all I want to do is

express how I feel

share my emotions

let you know me.

Be me.

Now that, that all silences me.

I’m no longer a woman

I’m the little girl waiting at the window

for someone

who never comes.

I put on a brave face

hid behind my curtain of unruly hair

and pretended everything was fine.

Who was I fooling?

I never had a poker face

I never will.

Nothing changes so very much.

Even if the damn words won’t come out

they’re all there

waiting to be freed

if I could only let them.

I’m silenced by the distant past

catching up and tripping me.

And I’m never prepared.

Never prepared.

I can’t unravel it on my own. Will you help me?

Here’s my entry into this week’s dVerse Poetics, hosted by the lovely Abhra who is, sadly, saying goodbye as one of the trusty and dedicated barkeeps at our wonderful bar. Sometimes, you just have to recognise when it’s time to move on.

The theme this week is unintended farewells. I did struggle with this a bit (and only partially because WordPress had a bit of a melt-down yesterday), since I didn’t want to hark back directly to the sudden and unexpected loss of my dad, which many of you have read about.

My entry is more to do with the consequences of that, and a few other chicanes in the road that have been part of my life over the past few years. I do feel as if I’m no longer the person I used to be. Sometimes, it’s bloody hard, sometimes, I see glimmers of someone else far more positive and creative than I was. It’s a confusing mess, but at least it’s life!

Please do head on over to the blog and this week’s Poetics to read more poety goodness – and to wish Abhra well, of course!.


30 thoughts on “Facsimile – dVerse Poetics

  1. to hide behind a curtain of unruly hair — those words say much. Each step we take, we say goodbye in essence to the step behind us. Our hope is to move forward — not sidewise and not backwards. One foot at a time.

  2. It’s hard to say goodbye. We can never go back. There is always an emptiness inside, when a loved one dies. Your words are powerful in this piece.

  3. Heartfelt indeed. My wife lost her dad unexpectedly last year, and I see her going through some of the same things as you. No matter how old you get, you still miss your daddy.

  4. We can put rhymy words on a page, but to write your soul so unabashedly and deeply is what makes us poets. This piece exemplifies that fact for me, Freya Poet!

  5. For me at least..
    a life of Beta brain
    wave being of solve
    this problem now now
    now.. of course most all
    work related as rat race then..
    but now i find
    retired with
    no more
    rat race
    the creativity
    fLows freer close
    to alpha.. and even
    theta waves of MiNd iN
    FloW ZoNe noW.. i suppose
    tHeir IS A Science of Creativity
    but of course a 1 step to 5 step
    or whatever old crusty formula
    WiLL noT work for no repeatable
    HearT for mE at LEast FReED
    FloW moVinG LeTTiNG
    aLL the Tension iN
    mY body go..
    iN EmoTioNal
    REgulation and
    Sensory Integration
    was the answer but
    so hard iT was for me
    to raise my arms to the
    sky as a man in the homophobic
    red state south.. but that is history..
    now is free.. i can ballet and martial
    arts all i like.. as the tire of wheel is FULL
    tread re-tired aGain.. anyway.. yOur words
    inpiRed aLL oF thiS.. so thank you FrIEnd..:)

  6. She told us all about herself,
    And, in the end
    She asked for help.

    Each one in shock,
    Asked their own self,
    “Did she just speak about me,
    Or, tell about herself?”
    Because, all of what
    She was going through,
    Pain, agony, fear and despair,
    Was, essentially, true,
    For each one of them too.
    And, each has had a long wait,
    Like her, for that someone,
    Who would come and satiate.

    An old man, stood,
    Walked up to her,
    Put his shivering hand,
    Softly, on her shoulder,
    And, said, “I seem to be
    The oldest among you all,
    And, I say to you,
    There wasn’t a day
    When I didn’t pray
    For that someone,
    Who would transform
    My dismay into gay.
    Many came, many went,
    But, to me, that someone
    Hadn’t yet been sent.
    The wait for someone,
    Perpetually continued,
    Fueled by my hope,
    Added days to my months,
    Months to my years,
    Years to my decades,
    And, finally,
    Regret to my despair.
    As great has been my wait,
    So deep has been my fall.

    And, only some time back,
    I began to see,
    That if you really desire to transform,
    This depressing state,
    Start to understand the reasons,
    For your fate.
    There is the truth,
    Known to you,
    Or in front of your eye
    You have to embrace
    And, not shun or shy.

    That your thirsty soul
    Could only be filled
    By the water you bring,
    Anyone’s water will never satiate,
    No matter how much
    You are offered,
    Or, how much you drink.

    That you are your only means
    To find your way,
    Please don’t let your life,
    Like my life, in illusion, pass away.”

    The old man, then,
    Put a hand on her head,
    And, walked out of the door,
    Wherever the path lead.

      1. I didn’t want to mention that until you read it. I believed that the narrator of your work had to be responded with that. Glad you found it worthy.

    1. 🙂 Please let me know if I you are cool with me linking your post to my post on my blog as your post stimulated my thought for the post.

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