I have been hurt, but not by love itelf

The little mouse defies the owl,

but only when a higher need,

stands shoulder to the hunter's wing

and makes hurt seem a welcome thing;

when sustenance from winter's chill,

is all and more his heart desires

and shows the cycle of the year,

is more compelling than his fear.

It is the same with hopeless love,

where disregard stood tall between

is far more hurtful than disdain,

for then, 'tis only me I blame;

and though my bones are richly jewelled 

they are as thin, as thin can be,

as self on self, alone I stand,

forever reaching for your hand.

So take this hand, if not this heart,

hold me, keep me safe the while

and let the hour pass slow away,

though time will always hold its sway;

the same when I was but a child

and craving of a higher need,

when silence was the cruellest sin

and made hurt seem a welcome thing.

Reviews

[Robert Trakofler]

this rhyme scheme matches and highlights the emotion of this poem perfectly:) P.S. I know exactly how that mouse feels having been a bunny and ducked a few predators in my day:/ But seriously one cannot avoid the tenderness and feeling that you shared in these lines coming from such an empathetic pen. this is a lovely write dear Beccy!!!

[Ken Simm.]

So much of a gossamer love poem. Complete and sad. Flowing and lovely.
Hope you are otherwise well my friend.

[Lorry]

It seems to me that it's the game of life that hurts the most, yet it is rarely far away from love as the reason it hurts most.
We can expect it from strangers, but true hurt is more often than not less of a stranger to us all in some guise or other.
The last verse says it all, that all we want is to feel loved and saved by all the hurt that life can throw our way.

[emmajoygreen]

Life is a voracious demon, taking, reducing or scattering care, friendship and/or love as it pleases. Your superbly set words tell of the hell of the little moments that mean so much yet can rarely happen, the dilution of existing as a whole human being: being more than seen, perhaps.

'though my bones are richly jewelled
they are as thin, as thin can be,
as self on self, alone I stand,
forever reaching for your hand.'

At some time in life, sometimes, often more than once - a person feels the shock of your finely set four lines.. they touch the wholeness of you but - more so, the need for a touch, a slight acknowledgement of your existence. For many, it's all that is needed to feel hope somewhere around even a distant corner.

You are such a wonderful writer and what's more a fine human being, Beccy. Hugs to you and your not so little lad.

[N.C]

I find this lovely in a very bittersweet way. Thank you for your empathy towards heartbreak. This poem reminds me of my best friend. I miss him.

[gram linski]

the yearning for touch, understanding some kind of something is palpable, whether it be the good bad or ugly, that need to be recognised, regardless of the form it takes as a person, we all need to feel something even if it is not a pleasant thing, awesome poem Beccy

[lakinbob]

Reading you reply to Eilis, it is clear you have not personally suffered such rejection, which makes this poem all the more startling in it's empathy and understanding of how deeply such disregard can affect a person, particularly a child.

You are such a very good poet.

[Mark]

When silence was the cruellest...
I have been in a place totally drained of any emotion. So battered by anger and theatrics that there was nothing left inside me. Yes, that was the opposite of love.

[R.E. Ray]

Beccy, this reminds me of a quote I read recently. Paraphrasing, the writer said hate isn’t the opposite of love; the opposite is indifference. That’s what I read partly in this poem. I also take the more important message. We should learn from history but not allow it to deny us life’s experiences, especially love. The title and poem show strength and hope. Another remarkable work.

[Terpsichore]

Even disdain is better than nothing... how utterly sad that is, but also so true. The knowing there is no care to be had can be soul destroying.

I have come to expect excellence from your pen, and this is no disappointment.

Compliments of the season to you and Charlie.

T