Waylaid by sentimental stirrings,
unintentional memories
found folded in my pocket.
The faint scent of those yesterdays
clinging to the paper …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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©2020 Christine Kelly
Photograph by the author
The mind becomes a ticking
time bomb, silence
settling like a fog.
Questions have no answers
and the weight of every one of them
smothers
what you do have.
You cannot breathe, for the journey
your mind takes you on
a whirlwind of emotions
you run down rabbit holes
better suited to a tale of Alice
and the person you wish to be
is masked
by this temporary madness …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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©2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved.
Photograph by the author
It’s raining, a drink of water after parched days. The ground was littered with odd drops, scattered randomly, before the thunder came and the heavens opened.
The rain always stops me in my tracks. I wait. I watch. I wonder. And my heart aches with some unfathomable feeling that soaks me to my core with a haunting want …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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© 2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Photo by Nadia Valko on Unsplash
Five days
and you will get on a jet plane
winging your way westward.
So much,
so little
time
to have …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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©2019 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved.
Photograph by the author
Joan Didion said in her memoir, “The Year of Magical Thinking,” ‘You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.’
Life as I knew it ended years ago. My marriage, which had been on a slow march toward its end from inception, kept me engrossed and distracted with its disintegration and a gradual and normalizing creep of isolation.
During this time, my mother was ill, though none of us knew it. We attributed her forgetfulness to aging. We had no clue that her brain was also on that slow march to disintegration. I reflect when I first realized I’d lost her, or a portion of her, and though there were many moments over the years I recall as suspect, the first moment emblazoned in my memory as a loss is when I turned 50.
I am the youngest of three children and the only girl — my mother and I have had a close relationship. Forgetting my birthday is not something she would have done. But, she did. At the time, alarm bells did not ring, quite possibly because of the pain and turmoil in my marriage. As I’ve said, I was distracted, and it’s challenging to fight a battle on two fronts.
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You
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© 2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Photograph by the author
‘This window needs cleaning,’ I think to myself.
Silent Saturday morning unfolds
before me.
Autumn makes her presence known,
a haphazard scatter, gold
leaves upon verdant lawn …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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©2020 Christine Kelly All Rights Reserved
Photo by Ewa Stepkowska on Unsplash
The thought
perches upon my shoulder,
like a sparrow,
quietly undemanding,
yet claiming my attention.
It’s softness and patience
unmoors me,
as time races
past the point I felt certain I’d reach,
the person I’d become …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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© 2020 Christine Kelly All Rights Reserved
Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash
Let me
breathe
this once
without thinking, no tears
falling from scrunched up eyes
or lips salty with memory and regret,
the waves having crested …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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© 2020 Christine Kelly All Rights Reserved
Photograph: my own
We were never a model couple, until we divorced.
Recently I was told that my ex-husband and I were the perfect examples of how to do divorce right, as if doing it ‘right’ made it more palatable. I’m not sure divorce is ever ‘done right,’ but I admit our uncoupling turned out to be less painful, arduous, and angry than I ever believed it would be. Collaborative divorce was the gateway to this peaceful coexistence.
From day one, the tenure and tenor of our marriage were acrimonious. I had contemplated divorce on several occasions, but never felt it would be the final resolution.
I entered marriage with the highest of hopes after a long-distance courtship that was romantic and replete with long letters and phone calls. Despite its romantic beginnings, my marriage was a difficult one. I was hopeful and maybe little naïve, but I never expected it to be a bed of roses — and it wasn’t, except for the thorns …
Published on Medium: Recovering After a Divorce
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©Christine Kelly 2020
Autumn color displays
its soul, complex and deep.
Eyes feast upon intricacies,
drama against sullen sky.
November’s grip, winter
chasing sun
sky threatening
eruption, emotion held
to its breast,
since spring came and went.
Intense hue
a taste, pungent;
how it lies upon my tongue
awaiting discovery.
:
Copyright ©SirenSong1208
All rights reserved.
Photograph taken by SirenSong1208
Siren Whispers 