This is a short one. Apologies.
There are moments when I write things to people (whether I send it to them or not) because I was thinking of them, I missed them, etc. After writing whatever I intend to send or after I do send it, I feel this little jolt of anxiety mixed with the anticipation of waiting to hear back from them… But before I hear back, before I get to send out any message – something tragic happens.
A loved grandma has died.
Their 15 year old dog has died; more family than anything.
The city that they live in, the metro that they ride, is bombed and attacked.
My anxiety and anticipation go into overdrive. I altogether want to say everything yet, I end up saying nothing; My friends and family are left speechless too after hearing my original questions:
‘Hey, how is your grandma doing these days?’
‘How is Pitt? Is she still chasing the ball? I need to visit soon!’
‘I hope you’re well – sincerely!’
I wrote this poem for a boy I missed. A friend I hadn’t heard from in a while. We’re close, but far away. He’s from St. Petersburg, Russia, which just experienced a terrorist attack on the Metro around 2:30 pm. He should have received my email around 6:00 am this morning, since I wrote it last night. I haven’t yet heard from him though. I’m hoping that I will. ❤
So, this is one of those moments. Where it seems I speak tragedy into existence, but that’s not what this is. That’s not what has happened. Perhaps it’s just a tragic coincidence. Perhaps it was a way for me to show my love – but with such terrible timing!
Here’s a poem. I hope you like it. Ta! 🙂
I started writing.
It began with lyrics,
I started to miss this.
Whatever this is.
Whatever mist hid the emotions that
Were kept at bay, departed, and so I started writing.
It began with pining,
I started hoping in this.
Whatever this was.
Whatever lust fed the emotions that
Were creeping into my speech and so I started to retreat.
It ended with me wishing,
I started this cycle again – whatever cycle we are in.