Monday, April 12, 2010

Without the loneliness

This is the first poem I have ever really understood. Despite a number of books of classic poetry around our house, the honest truth is that I do not read them. I have never understood them, except this one by Emily Dickinson.

It might be lonelier
Without the loneliness.
I’m so accustomed to my fate,
Perhaps the other peace

Would interrupt the dark
And crowd the little room
Too scant by cubits to contain
The sacrament of him.

I am not use to hope.
It might intrude upon
Its sweet parade, blaspheme the place
Ordained to suffering.

It might be easier
To fail with land in sight
Thus gain my blue peninsula
To perish of delight.

I understand what it is to become accustomed to the loneliness, and to become unsure whether there is room in my little routine for another person. This translates into frustration when my brother interrupts my day, I like having him in my house, and yet I do not want to compromise and share my space with him.

This also translates into tears when my husband is home for a weekend, I hate seeing him because it reminds me that he is going to leave again. It would be easier not to see him at all, so much does it hurt knowing that he has to leave again. I want him to stay.

2 comments:

  1. Oh Cass :( It must be so hard on you, hang in there-hopefully everything will improve soon xo

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  2. Thanks! It will improve very soon I hope.

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