Broken heart

January 11, 2016

Did you come home from Afghanistan?

A F G H A N I S T A N

The last I saw
Was all the dreams and all the hopes
In those pretty blue eyes
Confidently going to change the world
It was a rotten deal
Beware of all the mines
The sun was shining as you waved goodbye on the bus

Putting on my poker face
Everyday dealing the hand of
Keeping up facades

Days slowly going by
Eating up months
While I wait for the
Men in black
Knocking on my door
Handing me the folded flag

Will I ever see
Into this deep blue ocean
Of dreams and hopes?

Sing to me, little Darling
Sing my worries away in the night
Sing my fears away in the day
Sing when I wait for the
Men in black
Keep singing to me
While you’re away

They never came
To my door
Knocked on someone else’s

You came back
Everybody knows
You came home
All fine
Legs and arms intact
But it’s a scheme
To keep up the illusion

‘Cause you never came home
And everybody knows
How it goes
The deal was rotten
We met each other
In relief
Finally, the storm had passed

But the boat was leaking
The song was fading and
Men in black approaching

Our lips once again kissing
Finding each other in utter relief
Like the mother finding her lost child
Our bodies once again hugging
Longing for the familiar softness
Yearning for the once upon a time love

We tried
We really did
We know we did

All we find is a black hole
The terror in the eyes of castaways
The ache we feel
Is written here in blood
As real and actual
Like a stillborn baby
Dreams and hopes shattered
With the snap-of-a-finger

Just like that
We find ourselves in the place
Where death needs a shoulder to cry

With the gun of war
We kill us
Like little feet
That come and go
Sometimes you come back
Sometimes you don’t
The deal was rotten

A F G H A N I S T A N

October 18, 2015

About Death II

“I want a divorce.” He stood leaning against the kitchen window ledge on the first day of fall. The sky is grey. The clouds raging by. It rains. Heavily.

I knew he ment it.

My brain works hard. Usually, in these situations I’d say something like: “Well, then we might as well get divorced.” Then we’d fight some more.

And argue. Loudly. Back and forth.

Something like: “Come on, we have to make this work.” Usually, it would be him saying that. Then I’d act a little aloof. Waiting for him to apologize. He only did that the first years of our marriage.

Then finally, we’d end up agreeing on something come on ish. Somewhat like when you’re totally behind in a sporting event and then during the time out everyone is yelling their head off: “Come ON. Come ooooooooooooooooooooooooooon…”

But unlike how it used to be, I wasn’t the one threatening to get a divorce. He was the one wanting one.

Do you see the difference?

Getting a divorce. And wanting a divorce.

So I tried to keep calm.

“Come on. You don’t mean that. You don’t want that.”

“Yes. We are getting a divorce. There is no way back.”

No way around. Or no way out. My brain locked. My heart stopped. My image of our picture perfect family went to pieces. In one split second. Just like lightning ripping through a summer night’s sky. without warning.

When did our marriage die?