Never

I never thought that I would be placing roses on your grave.

The Notebook

The Cry
Pages and pages of entries
Detailed documentation
Of visits, proposals,
Queston after question,
Hope, despair, choices
All written in her hand.
A journal, a diary, a quest,
All so objective
As if the writer were observing
Rather than enduring.
Dispassionate observer--
Except for one brief plea
Midway through that first year.
A plea, or a prayer, or maybe
Only a hope:
"I know God can heal me--I know that God heals--with You watching over me." 4/2/97

Religion and Old-time

I always used to believe that growing older and definitely being old would strengthen one's religion. As the end of life grows inevitably nearer, one would seek the reassurance that there is more, right? But my so far rather limited insight into religious beliefs and old age has not sustained that way of thinking. Oh, this is way too deep and depressing for me to be thinking about now. It reminds me of that woman reading the poetry of her lost life to her churchmates, who kept waiting for the epiphany which never came. Cripes, if you're disillusioned with your life, why should the onus be on you to cheer others up. Who ever called religion a victory march?

Everything

She told me once, when she was angry at me,
That it was because I was the one
Who she loved the most, in the whole world.
It didn't sound to me,
at the time,
That she loved me very much, at all.
I'm pretty sure I didn't tell her,
at the time,
That I loved her too. I probably didn't.
And now, after she did everything for me,
I can't tell her that I do, and I did,
at the time.