The Unfinished Poem

[VickySGV]

I began a poem about my life in 1972 when I was 24 years old, likening my life to a call from a terrible wilderness, a call I could not resist but very much dreaded and feared. I finished the poem in 2012 at age 64 about a year before my SRS, when at the very last the path had become recognizable for what it was.

Until 1991 when I got my first word processing computer, I had kept the poem where I could find it in several writing desks, and from time to time added a word to it or corrected some existing word or phrase, but never in those years finding the words to finish the poem. The yellow legal pad pages it was handwritten on in either pencil or ink on became a mess of corrections and false attempts to complete it, and getting it into my word processor was hard, but I knew I had to give this poem an ending. A problem I found to completing it was that for the first 20 years I did not know words to describe the feelings I had, and even the words close to my problem were too terrifying to apply to my self. For the next fifteen years after I had made it "digital" I ignored it under a number of excuses, but life still went on. One night I read the poem when I was in a deep and terrible depression that was bringing me close to death at my own hand. The parts of it that stood out were loneliness, and separation from other people and harshness that would be my life. I almost deleted the whole file that night, and was hoping my next drink would lead to the rupture of a blood vessel in a critical place that would end all of what I had written about. Three year after that night, I was able to finish the poem, and every bit of it still had the theme of loneliness and separation from other people but in the ending, the reason became for me to make my own life and live its reality and genuineness.

It seems that it took nearly 40 years for me to reach the closure of my "early life" as a person made by others. I survived and know that I alone can finish my life in happiness.

[Guest]

Gee, did it sound like mine?

My Price I Pay To Hope.

A poem by Jody

Hope is a nasty four letter verb.

It sets up my heart to be kicked to the curb.

Feeling a drop, then a drizzle, Hope's small gentle rain.

Then slippery, elusive, seeming to dissipate just to drive me insane!

Catch me a thimble full, a cup full, then next a bucket with a leak.

All washed away before me, that I thought was mine, whatever Hope made me seek.

Does a ruthless God laughingly stand back to enjoy all the tears that I cry?

Wicked Hope tricks me once again, rug pulled away, as I fall I just want to die.

Sleep, sweet eternal sleep, I so desire, escape from Hope at last, my trust to abide!

Or is this trickster Hope, tactically laying a new snare for me, just on the other side?

Thus I must wonder, who is this God I cling to with all of my pink beating heart?

The Author of Hope, a co-conspirator or a huckster, am I just his foolish Tart?

I abandon it all to Him, Hope be damned, I have no escape, I've slipped in love too deep.

The way God makes me feel so cared for, He just can't be unfaithful, a stalker or creep!

For all of my foolish desire to go and be with Him, God will come for me, I must wait.

Though with my small might, my wings won't lift me, Hope slays me on, is this my fate?

I will trade all Hope has to offer, to scrub the floors of Heaven with a smile on my face.

I can endure with my tears, that betraying Hope again, chance to lovingly gain my place.

Ó Copyright 2.5.2014 JodyAnnTaylor

[Guest]

I showed you mine, now show me yours. Giggle. Hug. Mischievous JodyAnn

[Guest Brenda Hailey]

It seems that it took nearly 40 years for me to reach the closure of my "early life" as a person made by others. I survived and know that I alone can finish my life in happiness.

Well at least you finished your poem,but I really liked the last line of your post here.

I had never before in 40 years realized until recently the extent my person had been made by others,I too have survived and know it is up to me to finish "my" life.

[Charlize]

This brings me tears. Both of sadness and the happiness i can see before me as well.

Love,

Charlize

[VickySGV]

Jody -- the poem itself is pretty long (3 pages or 33 inches of paper). The first verses describe a harsh and unforgiving wilderness, and my encounter with a "spirit person" who tries to convince me to not go that way, even though it is a path they have taken, to find that I indeed hear a call that is real and soul felt. The final line or two go --

At that, he left me, leaving me to love and fear the road ahead

A road that would reshape body and spirit and would

In the days ahead lead me to a summit reachable only by those who

hear a call within themselves to a path they alone must take

To a destiny that is the reality of their lives and not to a destiny that is

pre-ordained by others for others purposes and dreams.

So today once more I hoist my load and look forward to a summit of

My own reality and beauty that no other can ascend.

[Guest denise_w]

My God Vicky, I identify so very closely with all you've written of here. And as your poem has always been in the shadow of your life, through all the depression, detachment, disassociation, loneliness (this one I know well), alienation and isolation; and alcohol abuse (my old "friend")...I see my reflection in the scenario you depict. Every bit of it.

But my God, I have to quote your last sentence (emphasis added by me):

It seems that it took nearly 40 years for me to reach the closure of my "early life" as a person made by others. I survived and know that I alone can finish my life in happiness.

"...as a person made by others". I too realize that I've been living my life to please others for decades, with disastrous results...supposed friends and family who will only accept me as long as I fit in their little boxes of what they want me to be. And that I must decide what is more important; my happiness? or being condemned to a life of pleasing others?

"...I survived and know that I alone can finish my life in happiness." What a wonderful, beautiful thing to say Vicky. Your poem has served a vital purpose in your growth and development over the years...and now that it is finished, so you've found the PEACE to to find your own happiness, and to finish as such.

I dearly crave such PEACE.

Your words have touched my heart.

Hugs to you dear,

Denise

[Guest]

If you are inclined, I would love the full version in an email. Your copyright withstanding of course. That is truly beautiful too. BTW, you are an inspiration to me even in your daily life. Hug. Jody