#the going

[merulae]

The cloth edge of certainty has shredded down to this: God and love are real,  but very far away.

April Bernard, from “The Going” in Romanticism

[edeschmedie]

(excerpt) The Going, from Thomas Hardy's Poems of 1912-1913

[blackhyena]

Thomas Hardy, ‘The Going’.

[p-isforpoetry]

"The Going" by Thomas Hardy (read by Alan Bates)

Why did you give no hint that night That quickly after the morrow's dawn, And calmly, as if indifferent quite, You would close your term here, up and be gone Where I could not follow With wing of swallow To gain one glimpse of you ever anon!

Never to bid good-bye, Or lip me the softest call, Or utter a wish for a word, while I Saw morning harden upon the wall, Unmoved, unknowing That your great going Had place that moment, and altered all.

Why do you make me leave the house And think for a breath it is you I see At the end of the alley of bending boughs Where so often at dusk you used to be; Till in darkening dankness The yawning blankness Of the perspective sickens me!

You were she who abode By those red-veined rocks far West, You were the swan-necked one who rode Along the beetling Beeny Crest, And, reining nigh me, Would muse and eye me, While Life unrolled us its very best.

Why, then, latterly did we not speak, Did we not think of those days long dead, And ere your vanishing strive to seek That time's renewal?  We might have said, "In this bright spring weather We'll visit together Those places that once we visited."

Well, well!  All's past amend, Unchangeable.  It must go. I seem but a dead man held on end To sink down soon. . . . O you could not know That such swift fleeing No soul foreseeing— Not even I—would undo me so!

Source: The Poetry of Thomas Hardy

[imissyoulilgucciv]

fraud

I’m sure I’ve written of it before, but here we are 3/5/2019- counting since 8/7/2017. No matter how much I do, no matter what I do, no matter where I go or who I am, I will always know it’s because of that day. That is how time works I guess as what we have is seemingly linear, its the feeling of the way things change, they way they can’t be the same, but that day so clearly molds the rest of my life, for the rest of my life. When I am anyone and the day starts and I put on my clothes and don’t really do anything with my hair and get ready to be whatever Michelle the world needs her to be, I’ll know it inst everything, I’ll know I lost so much that day and I’ll know no one else will see it or understand it, I’ll know I think of you in every thought and I filter through it because the thoughts are something else, they’re not a conversation, they’re not something that needs to be stated. You are a huge part of me that no one can see, and if I describe you, it wont add up to the you I knew, and the you I have come to know. I think of us as a new person and I think of the way you are with me, I think of the ways you are with me and what you left with me, I think of what I left behind and what I wasn’t able to do, I think of how we lost our battle, I think of what you’d think about this or that, I think of honoring you, talking with you, missing you, feeling disconnected because I haven’t dreamed with you, time is our biggest separation now and it only gets bigger. So when I put on that Michelle- Shell that everyone see’s I feel like a fraud, I feel like it’s all a discourse of something else that could have, maybe should have happened. I feel this intense confusion and sadness I couldn’t do anything with except get dressed and do things with my time I can live with, otherwise I wouldn’t be living at all, so I go and go and go, and it’s okay. Its not all bad, it’s okay, my gratitude keeps me going and fills me with a different kind of purpose or satisfaction about the life we share. How do you know when you’ve let go of too much? Is that even possible as we don’t get to keep anything, even ourselves, ideas of the “quantum you”, its always shifting, and always becoming, but why does it feel so fake? I assume its because there is a part of me that is always hiding, and there is nothing I can do. I tried to find another group therapy, for that reason, but there is nothing here,  I might try to make one, I made a flyer, but I didn’t print or post it. It’s a lot and I’m not sure its a good idea, like a relapse wouldn't be. 

[hathaway-hayes]

“The Goner and the Going”

I’d lost daddy and momma ought suggested I burn the pictures; I kept but this one, daddy, likewise his guitar.

She’d said as he’d strummed his. Maybe it was the twitch like lightning up his left cheek that betrayed his current predicament - a sin is a sin is a sin, right?

“Fell in love with a girl,” yeah, an only, lonely but rebuttal; to what truly gnaws a fool inside, he sang like a wannabe god pretending to be something more than he was; wishing to be something more than he was; a betrayal and only to him and kin alike.

“I have you and that’s all I need,” whimpered among an off-tone, “G,” and she knew, he knew, the hours keep slipping and a father’s dying wish as of yet, remained unanswered.

He knew, and she knew, given all the faults of the father, the son was still to be bested; weaker the phone and so easier to escape.

“Your father’s already gone.”

“Then it’s time I get going.”

     - L.C.

[ivyrooted]

All’s past amend,     Unchangeable.  It must go. I seem but a dead man held on end To sink down soon. . . .

Thomas Hardy, The Going