Written with Her in Mind.

Some of the poems that I wrote were written from my understanding of what I perceived to be in the hearts of hurting children. This was usually the case in my poetry book Fantasy/Controversy or My Reality. In Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Poem (In Memoriam) he wrote:

                                                  I hold it true,
                                                  Whate’er befall,
                                                   I feel it!
                                                   When I sorrow most,
               It is better to have loved and lost than never loving at all.

I can totally identify with those words for when I am grieved that I write, or cease to produce. I wrote as I carried my children’s grief and as I remembered my own loss from the past. At times, I refrain from writing and hide my pain for the sake of my children. On occasion, I desist because the situation may be extremely troubling to show. This has been the case for the last few days. However, I cannot say that there is any love that is ever worth losing. True love lingers on, even when separated by time. If love is never reciprocated, perhaps then that is an enormous loss.

Through my daughter, I can say that I now truly understand what a person means when they say, “It is not you, it is me.” People sometimes have internal struggles that can be handicapping, that can stop them from reciprocating another’s affection. This is not to say that they do not love, just at that moment in time they are unable to reciprocate that love.

I cannot read anyone’s mind; I can only try to be empathic and understanding. Based on things she has verbalized to me the following is a poem I wrote in tribute to her. To Her with Love:

Her who bore me never loved or carried me.
She who chose me; I loved, but did not want!
Left me empty and longing for affection.
For love, true love, my hunger lingers on and on.
I run after every shadow longing to be filled.
It is not the joy that I seek, it is the emptiness.
Like a gaping crevice, it is extremely powerful.
It preoccupies me as I sleep.
I toss and turn all night, for me this is not right!
Who am I, a wanted or a throw away child?
This is my determination, my inner conflict, to fill the void.
I want to be happy, a better life for me.
I know you may not agree or understand.
This is my belief, my confusion.
Simply the way things are for me.
I just wish it was not this way, because I am!
Her chosen child and I know she loves me immensely!


Visit ruthspoetry.rahtimes.com/ for more on the Author.

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