In paralytic, self-absorbed moments
among shadows and crushed dreams,
I feel like I have been abandoned.
What sustains me in this empty space
is knowing that
I am not in pure darkness
or powerless at the crossroads.
I look out of my self as
the light of her star
continues to gleam,
her dust dancing in sunlight,
encircling me
from morning to dusk,
anchoring me with her spirit
and timeless footsteps.
I am neither master of my emotions
nor immobilized in a land of clouds;
I am resilient...
and keep from drifting
by listening to echoes
from a distant place and time.
My affinity for self-preservation
and joy is not only intact,
it is woven into my fabric,
strengthening at the mere thought
of her smile.
I am incapable of abandoning myself.
That...is a lesson from my love,
and all I have learned from her...
is remembered.
© JOHN PISCATELLA
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Tuesday afternoon
My dearest John - This is the first opportunity I've had to come back to you and Florine - stupid me, I cleared my computer of cookies, etc., so lost the blog name, and didn't want to bother you with a phone call. Then I remembered that I had printed out all the pages of this blog and PRESTO! found the site. It's a rather odd sensation to "be inside your head" through your poetry - my first impulse is to cry again at y/our loss and pain, then I marvel at your courage and am sustained knowing you are seemingly okay. To be able to translate your sensory and emotional images into words is marvelous. I can't help but think that I or Willie shall look back upon them in times of inevitable loss for us (us? friends? whomever - we'll all be called up sooner or later, eh?!) and from them gain comfort. Thus, your talent and abiding love and intelligence will help others. In that you can be reassured; you are giving Florine a gift of great love.
Annie
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