WENDY STERN - POEMS

Loss's fool

 

 

It is a simplifier,

It brings focus, clarity,

Sunlight.

Sharp,

Streaming through

Open windows

After murky dullness,

Highlighting,

Accentuating,

That which is there.

 

It is a separator,

A divider

Of the greys

Into clear, hardened,

Black and white stripes,

Strong, strident.

 

It is a map,

A signpost,

A cold illustrator

Of that which has been

And that which is now,

A destroyer it seems

That will paint every aspect,

Every shade, every detail

Of that which is gone and wave it

In your face

So that it hurts, hurts, hurts.

 

This is what I loved about her,

This is who she was.

This is what I loved about her,

This is what she gave.

This is what I loved about him,

This is what is so so missed,

 

And yet again

 

This is who I was then,

This is where I stood,

This is who I was then.

This is what I dreamed of,

This is who I was then,

This is what I so so longed for.

 

It is a thief,

It seems,

And yet not so,

For it can only steal

That to which we are attached,

Can only hurt

When we are clinging.

A tough teacher,

Perhaps

A cruel one?

Well, I don't know,

I don't know,

Who am I to say?

 

It strips away pieces of your life,

Bringing havoc,

Disarray,

Then turns and asks of you,

“Who are you now

And is there anything

Left of you?

Anything?”

And I have no answers.

I have none still.

 

I take the crown,

It seizes it back.

I take the crown,

It seizes it back.

I take the crown

And it sits on its throne

Mocking me.

Well, almost...

 

Once I used to dance

Under full moon tree,

Used to dangle my feet

In Loch Lomond breeze.

Once I'd make my daisy chains

Under too-hot sun,

Seemingly impervious,

Untouched

By it all.

And now, now

I must admit

I am nothing more,

Nothing less,

It seems,

Than loss's fool.