I know in his way he loves me
But each night I cry
And each morning I awake alone
Yearning a touch
Desiring a kiss, a hug, an acknowledgment.
And I wonder, is this all there is.

I wake up and start my daily existence
My convenience for another
My pay? security
Alone I walk through my day
Mundane, needing so much more
I long to be told I matter
That what I do means something
That I am of value.

My youthful heart aging
One by one the petals of my life dry up and fall away
Leaving only barren stems of what once was beautiful
Now lay to waste upon the ground
Only thorns remaining
Is this how it is meant to be
Never to be smiled at
Never to be made aware of my own worth
Never to let go in thrills of passion

Each day I think about it
Obsess about it
Yet I make no move from the familiar

I dream of more
Yet for some reason I stay
Thinking back,
how many times I almost moved from my granite existence
Each time remaining martyr for tomorrow's security

My life is like my things
Cluttered in the junk room
Dusty, untouched, uncared for
Yet stored safe in boxes
More and more of life gets pushed into the clutter
Until it is but a heap
And the underlying treasure can no longer be found
But if someone took the time, weeding through
There would be found a pot of gold

Until now no one looked
No one cared enough
But now, if I seek through the clutter
I begin to see what was once important
I realize again it's worth, dusting off the remnants
Remembering each piece of what was lost beneath the dust
Moving each item I find a bit more of who I was
And what I thought I lost

But it was here the whole time
Put aside and ignored for so long
Each piece tangible and important to me alone
Emotional responses for each thing I touch
Pictures of life, of excitement, of spontaneous freedom

But I wonder do I dust them off and look at them
Just to pack it all away again
Or display it for all to see
To remind me of who I was, who I am
Or should I throw it all away?

My life, who I once was is covered in cobwebs
And the new life, like my new room is empty
Holding many drawers of nothing
Very few treasures, mostly sit-pretties
Beautiful things, expensive, nice
But not truly me
Picture perfect like a catalog
But of no substance
Stark, neat, organized eye candy
But no emotion, no memory
But for the purchase

This is my life now

Before, returning to the clutter of my past was a chore
Now it is a fearful reminder of all I was and all that was lost
Now I look to the clutter and want to clean it and re-learn from it
Relive each and every memory
Finding my treasure, who I was
To dust it off, not to put it away, but to embrace it
My endless journals reminding me of who I AM
And why I AM

I want to dance with the memories
I want to go round and round, hand in hand,
like lovers in spring time

I no longer want to be a captured princess in a castle tower
I want to experience my life
To feel again the exuberance of who I was

I don't want to only be stuck in the memories
I want to make new ones
I want to LIVE not exist

I want to wake to a kiss and hug
And a "did you sleep well lover?"

I want to feel my worth
Hear it, not just "know it"

I want to believe there is more

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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