I never agreed with her journey

I never agreed with her journey
by Regina K. Pride

I never agreed with her journey,
only seeing that it would lead her down a long dusty road
I saw snares  she would get caught in
I saw unhallowed fog so she could never find her way back
I saw the clouds darkening and disquieting at the sins she’d already committed

I never wanted her to be anything but who I thought she was
a flower with a stem, too delicate to handle,
I handled her with gloves, watered her almost daily
set her on the windowsill, and then
forgot about her, knowing she was always there,
I just never had the time,
until finally I would remember her, but it would be too late
she’d go out with the garbage the next morning,
a mournful brown, welted flimsy thing that nobody wants

a star right before its burnout,
she would sparkle for hours
standing in front of the mirror
roses in her cheeks and lights in her eyes,
I thought she was smiling at herself,
admiring herself in the long length of the mirror,
but maybe she was smiling at opportunity
and the dance of fate,
she had a lot of things going for her that year
and sometimes she would smile at me,
giving me encouraging nods
this is what freedom tastes like,
her hips would say
this is lightness, this is glory,
her feet would shout bouncing off and on the carpet
and like that star she would tilt and crash to earth,
reality bit her the hardest,
knocking her off her feet into the arms of another
after another
she would get dizzy
and the way the atmosphere works
she would burn up all energy and ruin that sparkling dress and mesmeric face

There were days when her hushed tears wouldn’t bother me,
I could go days never noticing,
or pretending that they weren’t there
but they were there,
and I could touch them with my own hands
she never told me this, but pain is universal,
but I only ever wanted to hear it from her own lips,
our souls could reconnect like dotted lines
we would be held together like glue

I wanted to hold on to her
like when I was a child and had nowhere else to go.
now, I have places, and so does she
my places will probably take me farther away than
I have ever been before
get me to this uncomfortable state,
forcing me to hang on to my core,
and she won’t always be home
some days she’ll be out with friends, pretending she’s young again,
some days she’ll  be working, on her feet all day,
some days she’ll be sound asleep in her bed,
and there is a high probability that will be the day I’m wide awake
thinking about the things we never said, but should’ve
said to each other,
wondering if she’s thinking the same.

Author's Note

What needs to be fixed?

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

The good Beccy steered me in this direction, and for that I am grateful. There is a beguiling mix of the narrative and the character-driven. The observations strike the right emotional tone, neither too detached nor soppy and weeping, and the piece is well constructed to boot. Fine, fine work.

[Beccy]

What needs to be fixed? Nothing, and I am truly astonished that no-one has reviewed this.

An ineffable sadness overwhelmed me as I read. The journey you map is incredibly well drawn and your word choice is exquisite. 'A flower with a stem to delicate to handle,' 'her hips would say, this is lightness, this is glory,' are just two standout lines in a truly standout poem.

So very well written. Beccy.