Fifty-Eight

Willard-Pond-Reflection

He was left alone in that womb
With no means to reach out
To her who was carrying him
No means to comprehend
Why she would not hold him close and dear.

She knew he was there
But did not know how to welcome him in
She who loved him because he was
Could not bear to know him near

Imagination was his refuge
He clung to it for dear life
To this day he is bewildered
When it doesn’t turn into reality
Shattering his world

He is still waiting
Expecting her to hear his silent call
And come rushing in with her tenderest love
While she has long since left

True comprehension still eluding him
He lies curled up
Waiting
In an ancient cave of his own making
A cocoon spun from fibrous expectation

It once saved his life
It still feels like home
A home outgrown
The contractions have begun

 

6 thoughts on “Fifty-Eight

  1. I’m touched deep inside. How difficult it is to understand even when talking about the situation and the feelings. Thank you for opening that much. i like to share the statement of erica: powerful, painful, beautiful, I cannot find better words. Much love too, Lis

    • Thank you, Lis. I’m glad to know that I’ll see you in Bavaria in just a couple of weeks. I look forward to our Sensory Awareness time together.
      Alles Liebe und bis bald! Stefan

    • Hello George! It’s good to hear from you – and I’m glad I hit the timing right. Some time I hope to see you again. It’s been so long…..

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