This poem was inspired by the holiday first day of a holiday week with sick patients who have families.
Life is brief.
It is on my mind.
Every time I hear the name,
it brings tens of thousands of images of memories.
Do you see the same for me?
I want you in my life, I’ve let you know.
Now I’m tired and I want to let you go. Shall I tell you so?
The years will always teach more than I expect.
My feelings continue to set the intent. I set the tone and sometimes I feel alone. I feel that I direct.
Love, whether family, friend, lover, or “foe,”
my heart will tell me so.
I wish we’d share our thoughts while we’re on a roll,
whether it’s the devil, the alcohol, or a wild hair that stole
our hesitation for a moment or so.
Romanticism isn’t dead. I still feel and I still hear what all that we’ve said.
It lives in my ears as it echoes what was left.
It won’t silence itself in the depth of our unrest.
Let it be said.
Do you love me?
Or do you wish the feeling were dead?
Is it in your heart, your unconscious,
or only in your head?
What about our childhood?
Let it be said.
Life is brief.
I know you may mean all the best towards those with your “clear” intent.
You pick.
Do you want me or will you call? Will it all remain unsaid while you fall?
Perhaps you have found a greater purpose than it all? And you can continue persevering to brighten it all?