heavy

my heart is heavy and my soul is sore
and for the life of me I cannot figure out the exact nature
of my restless, my irritable, my discontent
and so I listen, and I hum, and I read, and I feel, and
I wonder if he hears me calling his name
for a while it was easy, he was just here all the time
and part of me wonders if it was a figment of my spiritual imagination
while another part of me wonders if Ive done something to offend him
yet another part of me wonders if it was just time
which always seems to be my problem
I wasnt ready for him to leave, wasnt ready for the onslaught of lonely
its quite amazing what youre willing to do or not do
based on the availability of a phone call to ease your mind
ease your heart
calm your worry
and now that theres nothing to worry about
its quite selfish really

have you fully mourned your father's death, she asks
apparently I have not

with each passing holiday
the mere avoidance of family
not quite accomplishing the desired effect
but every time I drive over there I wonder
and I find myself looking
for skid marks on the pavement
a pothole in the road
some visible reminder aside from the hole in my heart and the questions in my head
that it reallly did happen that way
and a tangible, rational reason
for all the pain

why are you sad? its okay to be sad even if you dont know why.

the tears well, but they rarely fall
so I let the music play over me
take over in ways the emotion just doesnt anymore
fill the spaces between organ and muscle and sinew
with something that moves
since grief and hurt feel so stagnant
not a by-product of a child raised to bear the weight of the world
I used to cry
but the result of a boy taking over for a little girl
trapped inside a grown man
whose inner child hadnt had enough time for/with a Dad

thank you.. for letting me just be sad.