battgyrll
02-23-2003, 12:44 AM
For those of you who don't know, I had to stop seeing my T two weeks ago, and it hit me really hard. He was a wonderful t, and I worked on stuff with him for two years. Anyway, we had to write a poem in my Creative Writing class and I this just came out of me. For the non-english majors among us (I am not one either, so I had to have this explained to me too:winky) it's a sestina and there is a reason why the end of the lines consist of only six words. Anyway, here it is...
Starting Over
No one ever said that it would be easy to say goodbye,
But instead of being tearful and messy, you made it very clean.
You said to me, instead of making this an ending, it was time to begin.
Time to begin to battle again, this time armed with knowledge and strength
Things I did not have when I first stepped through your door.
Things I learned within the room.
I have come to know the quirks of the room,
The way the chair squeaks as it swivels, the way you never actually say “Goodbye”
And the way it always seemed I would hit my head on your door.
I always thought it was funny that the room was never clean,
Until that last day, when all of a sudden you found the strength
To organize your shelves, as if you were ready to begin
A completely new life. As if you were going to begin
Again, as a different person. You knew you weren’t coming back to this room.
You told me I had gifts, you told me I had strength,
You told me I could be dangerous, and you knew I hated goodbye.
As painful as this was for me, I followed your example and made it clean…
All right, I tried to make it clean. But it always got messy when I looked at the door.
This door in the room wasn’t the only door
That was being closed that day. For I wouldn’t begin
To talk to people the way I talked to you, finally come clean,
For a very long time. Maybe it was something about the room,
Or maybe it was something about you, all I knew was that goodbye
Was not what I wanted. And that I wasn’t sure I had the strength
To even get up and move on. I wanted to be like a child to let the strength
In my legs go out, fall on the floor and throw a tantrum. Slam the door,
Cry out loud and stamp my feet. “NO! I don’t WANT to say goodbye!
It isn’t fair, and I won’t do it!” I couldn’t do that, I had to begin
To live my life like and adult and pull myself together, before I left the room.
We had to make sure the break was clean.
A messy, bloody, broken bone, takes much longer to heal than a clean
Break. After being broken, I need time to get back the strength
That was lost in the break. And like a broken bone, I need room
To heal from this. To make room to heal I will shut my door,
And put myself in traction for a while, where I can begin
To repair the damage that was done, when you said goodbye.
It’s time to clean my mind, time open the door
It’s time to gain the strength, time to begin
It’s time to leave the room, it’s time to say goodbye.
I hope you liked it. It was suprisingly easy to write, and i think it was a good part of the mourning process.
:bat battgyrll :bat
Sara
Starting Over
No one ever said that it would be easy to say goodbye,
But instead of being tearful and messy, you made it very clean.
You said to me, instead of making this an ending, it was time to begin.
Time to begin to battle again, this time armed with knowledge and strength
Things I did not have when I first stepped through your door.
Things I learned within the room.
I have come to know the quirks of the room,
The way the chair squeaks as it swivels, the way you never actually say “Goodbye”
And the way it always seemed I would hit my head on your door.
I always thought it was funny that the room was never clean,
Until that last day, when all of a sudden you found the strength
To organize your shelves, as if you were ready to begin
A completely new life. As if you were going to begin
Again, as a different person. You knew you weren’t coming back to this room.
You told me I had gifts, you told me I had strength,
You told me I could be dangerous, and you knew I hated goodbye.
As painful as this was for me, I followed your example and made it clean…
All right, I tried to make it clean. But it always got messy when I looked at the door.
This door in the room wasn’t the only door
That was being closed that day. For I wouldn’t begin
To talk to people the way I talked to you, finally come clean,
For a very long time. Maybe it was something about the room,
Or maybe it was something about you, all I knew was that goodbye
Was not what I wanted. And that I wasn’t sure I had the strength
To even get up and move on. I wanted to be like a child to let the strength
In my legs go out, fall on the floor and throw a tantrum. Slam the door,
Cry out loud and stamp my feet. “NO! I don’t WANT to say goodbye!
It isn’t fair, and I won’t do it!” I couldn’t do that, I had to begin
To live my life like and adult and pull myself together, before I left the room.
We had to make sure the break was clean.
A messy, bloody, broken bone, takes much longer to heal than a clean
Break. After being broken, I need time to get back the strength
That was lost in the break. And like a broken bone, I need room
To heal from this. To make room to heal I will shut my door,
And put myself in traction for a while, where I can begin
To repair the damage that was done, when you said goodbye.
It’s time to clean my mind, time open the door
It’s time to gain the strength, time to begin
It’s time to leave the room, it’s time to say goodbye.
I hope you liked it. It was suprisingly easy to write, and i think it was a good part of the mourning process.
:bat battgyrll :bat
Sara