We are drops of water in this great river of love
Like cogs in the wheel we shoulder the burden
Force the millwheel to turn
Sometimes we drop our load
You helped me pick up mine
Time to help you with yours
I tried to help you up
You carried on without a backward glance
I raised my glass in anger
I plotted
I cursed
How to help you?
How to assuage my pain?
But my pain was only fear
Fear that you denied my love
Fear that I could not do the right things for you
Fear that I could not ease your pain
Fear that you did not trust me
You had your doubts
As I tried to find my way
I know now you raged against your own fears
I know now that it was your right to make your choices
We opened up our hearts and embraced again
This work is © Jennifer Jilks.
2 comments:
That’s a very beautifully sad poem Jenn, which should be interpreted as a compliment. It’s hard to be beautifully sad, sad in an elegant way. I typically don’t associate with classic forms of writing because my writing style is rather unconventional – from my prose to my poetry. I always seemed to get into trouble in college while taking my minor classes in English and American literature. I always felt that certain things were just not worth reading. I always loved reading anything with emotion in it. Your poem has emotion from line to line. The type of emotion that struggles to stay contained in the lines. I think that is something valuable in writing.
I agree, Andrew. I accept it as such. I had trouble accepting my mother's death. The writing around it certainly helps.
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