What an odd experience
Seeing the familiar face of a stranger
Not a stranger at all
Because you knew me, parts of me.
You saw me younger, emotional,
Undressed, dressed down,
Birthing two babies,
Breastfeeding both our babies,
Nurturing our babies, toddlers,
Children, teens, young adults.
You saw me cooking dinners,
Nursing back to health our children,
Preparing lunches,
Cooking Breakfasts,
Walking dogs,
Scooping dog poo,
Cleaning, bitching,
Crying, weeping, raging,
Reading, apologizing,
Belly laughing,
Learning, healing,
Adapting, loathing,
Loving.
You saw me walk alone towards you,
On a path wearing black slacks,
Cream-colored tuxedo tails on an
August Sunday.
You saw me walk away from you,
and a judge’s bench on a
early day in June.
A friend once said,
You could not actually see me,
Because you could not even
See yourself in the mirror;
Face the truth of your lies,
of what you kept hidden from view
Did you see me today running by you?
Did you hear me say,
“Morning!” into the cold March wind
And your silence?
What an odd experience when a stranger
Becomes a friend, then nakedly an intimate partner,
Who remains emotionally remote,
Then physically absent for longer and longer
Chunks of time.
We had been so close,
And so very far away.
Intimate strangers.
Known, unknown.
Seen, unseen.
Wispy memories
Tainted by all the lies,
Which keep me blind from
Seeing you.
With joy and gratitude,
– Laura
