Tag: longing

Save Point

by Helena Toto, posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

If I could go back

To a point within my life

To do what wasn’t done

Choose again, right this time

 

With all the knowledge I have now

My heart aches with longing

In search of reprieve from the madness

Of Now – of this day

 

For so long, pondering the point

I would rewind to

Would it all change?

Would I still be me?

 

Would I know I had chosen?

Or would the weight of bad decisions

Be wiped clean from me?

Coming back from the coma

 

A save point would guarantee

A do-over

But I wouldn’t remember

You

 

Your voice, your touch

The way your eyes follow me

With light across the room as

I walk

 

Caressing me with love

The times you held me as I cried in the night

The love we made

Wrapped up in grief and anger

 

All this time to realize

You are my person

And I am yours

I would have to let that go

 

To avoid tragedy

Only to hope destiny

Will intervene to

Bring us together again.

Enough

by Helena Toto, posted in alone, Anecdote, longing, Poetry, rain, sadness

I stand here in the rain
watching you run so you
don’t get your hair wet.

Such a difference
between us.

All the time-
making it seem like
there is no reason for
what I do.

But I love it.
All the droplets falling down.

It makes me believe I will wash away-
if I just stand here long enough.

Goodbye

by Helena Toto, posted in death, dreams, Goodbye, hope, life, longing, Love, Paradise, peace, Poetry, sadness

We stayed on shore
As you floated past us
In your restful bed

The end wasn’t as you expected
You didn’t suffer
And we didn’t cry

But I smiled
To know that things
Would be different now

The leaves changed from pink to
Gold when the lights danced over
Them on the dark water

And my breath caught
In my throat
As your blood swirled with the tide

Salt mixing with life
Preserving it, holding it tight
Until I see you again

Photo Credit: http://digitalblasphemy.com/

Why I don’t Write

by Helena Toto, posted in ache, belief, Fear, Loneliness, longing, pain, poem, Poetry, reasons, why, writing

Do I write for fun?
Or when the power of words hit me?
Do I write to process, to understand
The beauty of things that surround?

Would I write if energy was freely given,
Flowing to me in a continuous
And purifying rain of words?

If the bones in my hand didn’t ache
As I typed
And my heavy head wasn’t throbbing
From buried pain?

If my day wasn’t congested with
Chores and human frailties
Could I produce
A brilliant new world?

Or would I still sit here, wilting
Creativity dripping down the
Sides of my face
Not knowing how to come back from all this madness?

Photo Credit: Wouter de Bruijn via Compfight cc