I long for a deep and dreamless sleep,
a certain sleep,
for relief from the excruciating pain of living a life that is less than I always imagined,
less than I hoped it would be

I long for a quiet and peaceful sitting,
an undaunted sitting,
for solace from the thunderous reel that’s been stuck on repeat for as long as I can remember,
for as long as I have allowed it to play

it’s true,
I mostly prefer aloneness,
but it eats me alive to know what an increasingly isolated life I’ve been living,
a tiny, dark triangular world of gambling, shopping, and reading,
three points to which I traverse,
one after the other,
trying my best to outrun the thunder and the pain –
it’s no wonder I’m always so tired

but what I long for most of all,
is rest,
for the ability to finally stop trying to fill the seemingly infinite void,
rest from trying to make life smaller

-image via Pixabay; poem inspired by my mother

9 thoughts on “Longing

  1. “trying my best to outrun the thunder and the pain”…..exquisitely sad poem, Angela! Once again, you are able to express so many of my own emotions, so much more beautifully and clearly than I ever could. I love your work and I love you, my friend!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Oh my gosh, Angela. Isn’t it amazing how very different aging is from one person to another? Some people can thrive in their old age, surrounding themselves with friends and family and finding something purposeful to do and others just wither away. I see that difference in my own parents. My dad is gone now but he was positive to the end. My mom is just the opposite, negative, cynical and demanding. It is difficult to be the care giver.

    Liked by 1 person

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