unfulfilled love - unrequited love - love relinquished - life unlived...

we all are gypsies of a sort wandering traveling through this life other lives space and time here there and yon on roads less traveled - this is a written and visual journal of my own travels - imagined and/or real - come along with me - we'll dance among the stars under the sun and over the moon - we'll share our stories of love around the campfire - come along -

poetry from the heart...


POETRY FROM THE HEART - my own words dedicated to all the words left unspoken, the acts left undone - the love unlived unfulfilled -

i dance with you...only in dreams...

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Monday, November 23, 2009

terra incognita...


she had become homesick
for something quite unknown
something unfamiliar something she seemed
to have known to have felt to have been
some other time some other place
but when or where remained a mystery to her
what or who it was she could not remember
an agnogenic condition for sure but homesick she stayed
and so it was that her nostalgia grew
as did her yearning for that something missing
not complete not whole she could not quite grasp
sadness coupled with longing soon turned to despair
longing for a thing she could not even name despair for a thing unknown
the more she tried to remember to surrender
to the mist of her faded memory
the more embattled her soul
as if some stranger some trespasser
a foreign interloper had quietly and stealthily sneaked
into the deepest recesses of her self
and plucked and plundered till there was no more remaining
no more indeed not even a drop
of what was of what had been of what should still be
that obscure something for which her melancholy grew
and which soon twisted into a weariness begging for resignation
resigning herself to lost recollection to lost recognition
nothing could salvage what was not there
nothing short of divination
and so in her abject morbid meditation
as she sat staring into the nothingness of her days
something caught her eye
an illusion almost an image a manifestation
of something but of what
what was it that she saw there
staring back at her from the other side
slowly ever so slowly she began to see what was
it began to take shape to become -
that something she could not name
began to blossom to grow to regenerate
the skeletal pieces came together
blanketed by a soft pink flesh
under which she could feel
slowly but surely beating - her heart
she glanced furtively upward directly into the eyes of -
of that something she was missing
that she had almost forgotten
that she had nearly lost
the eyes of herSELF -
and then she saw not just the pieces but the whole
the thing for which she had become homesick
the thing unknown unfamiliar
it was her - 
without
him

9 comments:

Deb Kirkeeide said...

We do tend to give up our Self at times, don't we? Only to wonder why we are unhappy and longing, when we should by all appearances be otherwise. It took me a long time to learn that truth!
Lovely and truly soulful words.

Nevine said...

How sad it is when we lose our self-recognition because of the loss of someone that our spirit has connected with on a high level. We feel lost and alone, as if not only a part of us has disappeared, but the soul of our soul, leaving us only a shell. Beautiful, and sadly true, Gypsywoman.

Nevine

GYPSYWOMAN said...

yes, deb, a long time for me, as well - but once we discover/re-discover that truth, a whole new world of SELF awaits us - thanks so much for coming by - always look forward to your visits~

GYPSYWOMAN said...

and dearest nevine - yes, we become so completely absorbed in and by each other - that our individual identities are melt into shadows in the mingling - and then...well, and then....thanks so much for your always beautiful thoughts!

Roger Gauthier said...

Very moving, Jenean. Very. I told you before, one cannot write this without having lived and suffered. That's the way things are.

I do hope, however...

Well, men and women in my family tend to love totally. Most of the time, forever. Such a love matures in such a magnificent way.

One day I will tell you what I told her the first time I saw her. She was fifteen years old and an ethereal beauty.

I feel a chill all of a sudden.

Written From The Cold

Roger Gauthier said...

... and with this I say farewell to you for maybe a week of so, maybe a bit more. Some work to do, and friends to help to.

Take care,

The Photographer Who Came From The Cold

GYPSYWOMAN said...

roger, i am only just now seeing your notes here from tuesday - thank you as always for your thoughts and words which leave me, as usual, with .......well, which actually do not leave me -

and, yes, i know - i know what it is that you hope and i thank you for that sweet hope, as well -

i'll see you on the other side of your week - or so - till then - j

GYPSYWOMAN said...

man from the cold - i cannot help but think of your words above that were written just hours before this tragic incident! thinking of you and sending best wishes for a very speedy total recovery!!! take care, roger!

Roger Gauthier said...

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, milady.

RogerG.