What an empty place this is;
waiting for my heart to heal.
And no one can help me here
waiting for the closing of the year.
Only Thursday … only come to Thursday
from ending Monday
and, perhaps, the hours are only just beginning
to grind me.
My mind, like some incessant weasel,
follows me everywhere
with memories, words, and fantasies
images and remembered feelings.
I read, I wait patiently, I talk to friends,
I exercise until I ache.
I pray for understanding and peace and acceptance
and my heart … aches and aches.
Rose cannot help me, nor can Kathleen.
Helen K. cannot help me.
Only time will heal me
and to get its healing
I must pass its flaming passage.
gallagher
12 dec 85
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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