I want to learn all I can, live as wisely as I can, and savor every moment on the journey.
I wrote the following poem several years ago while recovering from a period of deep depression, during which I had been extremely withdrawn and isolated from people. No, that doesn’t quite cover it: my depression was mixed with some long-pent-up anger, and that anger propelled me to view virtually everyone as an enemy, so it was more than social withdrawal; it was social antipathy. But when treatment finally began to break through the spell I’d been under for many long months, I began remembering the life-force value of social interactions and relationships. That’s when I wrote “The Peninsula.”
I’m so grateful I healed from that awful illness and, even more, that I have some really wonderful people in my life—especially my husband of two months!—so I’ll follow the first poem with a short love poem I wrote about him (and have posted before), for contrast.
~ ~ ~
If “no man is an island,” I must be
at least a peninsula. On three sides
I’m cut off from civilization, free
to live my way. No one sees my insides—
my feelings, reasonings, and dreams. All I
let be seen is what my control can’t reach—
my outside. But with hats worn low, I try
to keep a strong wall in place, so no breach
of security will let someone see
my peninsula. This plan works well—till
my sacred land begins to sink. “Help me!”
I cry, but no one hears. I start to fill
up with tears; sadness severs like a knife.
I wish I’d let someone into my life.
~ ~ ~
Climbing with You
Hiking up life’s mountain alone,
I’m panting, frowning at my feet.
But when you come climb beside me,
my aches and fears vanish; I breathe
in sunlight, pure air, your laughter,
every moment. I know it’s true
that I could make it up alone,
but I’d much rather climb with you.
~ ~ ~
I’ve always been an independent spirit, but I feel lucky to have discovered that having people in my life—even sometimes depending on them—really brightens and enriches my days!