Wow, this is an interesting process - sorting through all these poems as I remember back and marvel at how much has transpired. At first I thought I should put them out there in order, but they haven't been coming to mind in order... and then I realized that makes sense! That old linear mind again.... but, OF COURSE, this will be a meandering path, too!
So the one that has been in the forefront of my mind and heart today is really a pair of poems. I have them right next to each other on a page as they are a conversation between Barry and me. I speak to Barry first and then he responds - and I clearly remember when I wrote the one titled 'Sarah' I actually felt him with me - I didn't hear him, I FELT him and it was lovely. It was sad, too, at that time - but I did feel a wonderful sense of the deep relationship we shared together for so long.
The picture above is one I took from the summit of Saddleback Mountain. It looks down to Saddleback Lake in the valley. That's where Barry and I first met in the summer of 1975.
So.... please picture these poems next to each other...:)
Barry
That first horseback ride, harbinger of what was to come.
We talked, we listened to each other’s despair.
Deep connection that wasn’t even about words.
It was just there.
You knew it, felt it much sooner than I.
I was so young, so hurt, so vulnerable, so guarded.
But you knew, you saw, you helped me understand
it was okay to feel, to need someone,
to be me.
We were connected on so many levels for 27 wonderful years.
Through life’s twists and turns we were solid and sure.
You filled a void in me, as I filled a void in you.
But then you left, just left.
I know that wasn’t your plan,
but one beautiful spring day you left and never came back.
We weren’t ready for that, our children and I.
We need you and your calm, quiet presence.
We need your subtle humor, your deep love, your devotion.
We need you.
I need you, especially now as our children
move out into their futures.
I miss you, in so very many ways.
In ways I never realized would be.
I know you are there, here within me and our children.
But it just isn’t the same.
I can’t quite remember what it felt like to be held by you.
I can’t quite hear your voice.
I’m scared, Barry.
I don’t quite know how to be without you yet.
I miss you so very much.
Sarah
I miss you, too.
Wonderful wife, mother, friend.
You did fill a void in me.
You made me complete.
I loved what we had.
You know that and it is a part of who you are now.
All the things I loved about you are still there, too.
Have always been.
Don’t forget.
You have to celebrate them within yourself now.
They are real, valid and so vital to your moving on.
Your perceptiveness, your compassion,
your sense of humor, your busy mind,
your beautiful being.
All the good things you felt while you shared your life with me.
They are still there.
Trust yourself, trust their validity as you learn to
understand the validity of your pain.
As you remember that it is okay to feel, to need, to be you.
It’s okay to be scared, Sarah.
I would be, too.
We were one, you and I.
But now you are just beginning to see you for you.
I am part of that, but just part.
It’s okay.
Just keep going, keep searching and know that
who you are becoming
is simply an extension of the goodness
of who you have always been.
I love you, Sarah.
I love YOU.
That first horseback ride, harbinger of what was to come.
We talked, we listened to each other’s despair.
Deep connection that wasn’t even about words.
It was just there.
You knew it, felt it much sooner than I.
I was so young, so hurt, so vulnerable, so guarded.
But you knew, you saw, you helped me understand
it was okay to feel, to need someone,
to be me.
We were connected on so many levels for 27 wonderful years.
Through life’s twists and turns we were solid and sure.
You filled a void in me, as I filled a void in you.
But then you left, just left.
I know that wasn’t your plan,
but one beautiful spring day you left and never came back.
We weren’t ready for that, our children and I.
We need you and your calm, quiet presence.
We need your subtle humor, your deep love, your devotion.
We need you.
I need you, especially now as our children
move out into their futures.
I miss you, in so very many ways.
In ways I never realized would be.
I know you are there, here within me and our children.
But it just isn’t the same.
I can’t quite remember what it felt like to be held by you.
I can’t quite hear your voice.
I’m scared, Barry.
I don’t quite know how to be without you yet.
I miss you so very much.
Sarah
I miss you, too.
Wonderful wife, mother, friend.
You did fill a void in me.
You made me complete.
I loved what we had.
You know that and it is a part of who you are now.
All the things I loved about you are still there, too.
Have always been.
Don’t forget.
You have to celebrate them within yourself now.
They are real, valid and so vital to your moving on.
Your perceptiveness, your compassion,
your sense of humor, your busy mind,
your beautiful being.
All the good things you felt while you shared your life with me.
They are still there.
Trust yourself, trust their validity as you learn to
understand the validity of your pain.
As you remember that it is okay to feel, to need, to be you.
It’s okay to be scared, Sarah.
I would be, too.
We were one, you and I.
But now you are just beginning to see you for you.
I am part of that, but just part.
It’s okay.
Just keep going, keep searching and know that
who you are becoming
is simply an extension of the goodness
of who you have always been.
I love you, Sarah.
I love YOU.
Sarah Carlson
October 22, 2006
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