On Grief (Menopause)

I have found myself at the well 

run dry

having lingered too long with fear and worry

what was once filled to the brim with the clear clamor of birdsong

the fresh scent of sunshine 

is now only rocky mud flats 

I imagine the moss growing around the mouth of the cavern

once a soft blanket to lean up against when leaning over to drink

it prickles my skin now, as I lean in with wonder

how is the water all gone?

Had I fallen asleep soundly while the deer people gathered

had men come with buckets to steal my youthful drink?

Or did time just pass as I continued to wander

farther and farther from that life giving well

Here I am now

gazing into the darkness 

reckoning with the passage of all this time

considering a well with just small puddles - where so much water used to be

metabolizing grief

Villain

 You will have to be the villain someday, if

you ever choose to say "fuck you, Kevin" 

go live your life

the one you've literally been waiting for

the one you hide in the stolen moments of longing

of dreaming 

when the kids are fed and kissed to bed

after the dishes are washed and the lights turned out

when you finally collapse into the waiting arms of your true lover's embrace

finally, let your thoughts and dreams off their leashes

out of their confined cages

let them roam wild and free across this landscape of your being

they travel beyond the boundaries of 

your everyday fears

you know the world is vast and wide

you have so little time, yet 

you tarry

I know why you do not make haste

you have been told to hug 

the corners for safety

that peace is the only solution 

to the clashing of your desires

YOU must be the diplomat and surrender

must be willing to allow someone else to 

save you 

help with the money, the children, the cleaning, the driving

the sheer magnitude of living 

this life 

1 is too lonely

2 is the happy ending

3 a triangle with 1 too many sides

4 strategically balanced

5 lopsided and ugly

any more, a death sentence for who you really are

yet, aren't you supposed to be both fearful and grateful 

to have found another to occupy your thoughts and time

so you do not need to listen to the nagging voice within you?

to distract you from seeing clearly 

through the foggy wet of your own indecision?

the hopes in your chest small mighty embers

dusty by the time you 

drag them out from their hiding

misplaced and neglected

the crushing weight of your own loneliness, boredom 

has finally broken them out of their attic cages

has shattered them at your feet

leaving you with only pieces to rearrange anew 

be brave

you will cut yourself and bleed

sing offerings to the past

reclaim yourself in the fire

walk anew into today 

be the villain of your own unfolding story

not the victim of your fears