wanderingsoul
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Registered: 07-2003
Location: Wandering
Posts: 403
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Conversations with the Dead
I know you cannot hear me and you cannot read this. So this is just wasted breath, wasted words, wasted space. But then, really, most of my words are little more than that. And God knows I never shut up when you were alive, at least you would think you would get some peace in death. "Rest in peace." Yeah, right. Like I would ever actually shut up. Your own fault, you know.
Remember this? You wrote it about me.
Tenuous Connection
I reach for your hand
but you slip right through my fingers.
You are like a ghost
wandering through my empty halls.
I try to touch you
but feel only the mist that lingers
in the cold, damp air
that clings to my bare walls
I try to love you
but what is offered is not taken.
You hide yourself inside
and ignore my plaintive pleas.
If I fall asleep
will you be there when I awaken?
Or will you float away
like a whisper lost upon the breeze?
I know how you felt. I didn’t then. I couldn’t see how you thought that, couldn’t understand why you worried I wouldn’t be there when I said I would never leave you. I didn’t then, but I do now.
I am feeling like that with my angel these days. And I know he has promised me he would never leave me. But promises cannot always be kept. God knows I have made promises I meant with all my heart and soul to keep—and have not been able to keep them. And I don’t even think it is his “physically leaving” that I am concerned about. He finds rational—eventually. And I think he will not lose rational long enough to lose himself completely. But it is not his physical presence I am afraid of losing—it is his emotional presence. I feel him slipping inside himself and away from me. And I don’t know if I can stop that. I try. But maybe I don’t do the right things, say the right things. Maybe because I don’t know what they are. Thought I did—and maybe that gave me an illusion of helping. Maybe it gave him an illusion too. But maybe I just got lucky and said the things that he was already thinking, or maybe what I said didn’t really make the difference. Sort of like offering your hand to someone who had already managed to climb out of the hole.
I know there are things in his head. I think I understand some—maybe most of them. But maybe that is illusion also—or delusion. Maybe he is leaning on a false support, a ghost that will disintegrate as soon as he puts his hand out to lean against it.
So I understand how you felt when you wrote that. And I am sorry for ever making you feel like that. Because I know how that made you feel—beyond the words you wrote, beyond the words you spoke. I know that deep, soul-tearing feeling of thinking you are going to lose someone you love and feeling helpless to stop it. And I tried to take those feelings away from you. And I hope I succeeded somewhat, though I am not so sure I ever did.
And now I have lost you. You are the ghost that I feel against my skin when I close my eyes, the ghost whose breath I feel against my ear, whose fingers I feel in my hair. And nothing I can do will ever bring you back to me because time and death are one-way streets despite all our wishes and dreams to the contrary.
And I don’t want to lose him, too. But I don’t know what to do. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make all things right for him. Hell, I would put on the Glinda Good Witch of the North outfit if I thought that would help. And no, that should not be turning you on. But Mark, I don’t know what to do. And I miss you because you would have been able to tell me since you managed to always keep from losing me.
And don't give me that look, because I know I am being a Drama Queen at the moment. But I am still YOUR Drama Queen and always will be. Just wish you were here right now. Really, really wish that.
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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8/15/2004, 10:01 pm
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