Monday, March 10, 2014


I remember your breath.
I remember breathing.
I remember yes.
I remember good-bye
And good-bye
And good, so much good.

Poetry coats with rose-colored paint.
The breathing?
I was so scared.
Striping trust down to the depths of vulnerability.
I remember saying "never call again."
I remember that you obeyed.

My mind opens, cavernous.
My dreams relive this,
Send me trekking,
Across the Great Wall of You,
Of comfort.
Such solid ground.


  1. Your poem has made me wonder... when we say "Never call again" do we mean it to be taken seriously? This poem really speaks to the feeling heart which knows what it feels like to be left by someone you have loved.

  2. poetry paints rose-colored? sometimes, i suppose.

  3. Okay, not always, Marian. I was going to put in a caveat to that statement, but it didn't flooooow.

  4. Flow is important. And flow is part of separations and break-ups, too; they are almost never clean breaks. We say the right thing, then hedge. We walk away, then circle back in the night. No wonder everybody is so confused about love!

  5. trekking across the great wall of you . . . love that line.

  6. such a complex thing it is to love and let go.

  7. Poetry coats with rose-colored paint

    This is a classic saying. It smacks right at what one gets in great writings! Wonderful write Cosmos!


  8. Thanks, all.
    Shay, you summed it all up perfectly.

  9. Yes, Shay is right on. You have captured the endless circling, the trying to make sense of, the attempt to think in such a way it turns out better/different, that we go through, feeling, wondering, questioning........well done.