Being Left Behind
I was not ready to be orphaned
Not from the moment I was born
Not in my tenth year or my twentieth
Not in my thirtieth or my fortieth year
I always hoped
Despite myself
That there would be a parent’s lap
On which to rest my head
A place of safety
Where I could be a part
Of someone else’s plans
And feel their fingers running
Through my hair
Despite my best intentions
I always hoped to find
A hand
Reaching out for mine
To draw me from the precipice
Who I was – establishing
My place within the world
And what I would become
I wished for someone to believe
That I was special
I longed for someone
To whom I meant everything
For whom I was wonderful
Because I was theirs
Their secret
Their child

Even at twenty, thirty, forty
I wanted my parents with me
Perhaps even at fifty, sixty, seventy
Perhaps even as I die
I will hunger for my parents
Seeking something
Something they were never able to give me
Not from the moment I was born
Not when I was ten or twenty
Thirty or forty
Or ever
On my deathbed I will hunger
For my mother’s voice
Or my father’s voice
To read the funeral prayer
And after I die
I hope they will be there
To say how much they loved me
And how much they will miss me
Now that I am gone
Is it too much to ask
For someone who loves me
Or even adores me
Who will always care for me
And remember me fondly
To be beside me
When I’m forty or fifty
When I’m sixty or seventy
Or eighty or ninety?
At one hundred and ten or one hundred and twenty
Perhaps on the hundred and fiftieth anniversary
Of my death
I will be remembered as an orphan
Abandoned by parents
Who had forgotten how to love

Passive Tense
The passive theory of love
Is that love is just a feeling
A mood
Over which you have no control
To which you submit passively
Like a child might submit
To the instructions of its parent
It is something that simply happens
You fall in love
And then
Just as easily
That entrancing emotion
Is gone
How can such things occur?
How can we embrace and then abandon love
So easily?
Should we take notes
When the dread change takes place?
Should we bring cameras –
Upload our videos onto Youtube?
Will our actions be remembered
As the perfect depiction
Of how ordinary people
Fall in and out of love?
Yes, you were in love
And now
You no longer feel that way
It is something over which
You have absolutely no control
And something for which
You cannot be held responsible
In the end
For which no one
Least of all you
Can be blamed
You no longer love the one you loved
And, after all, why should you?
You’ve seen them off
And off they go
To join the throng
Of the great unloved
And all of that
Was way outside of your control…
What else could you have done?
What can anyone do
When the love is gone?
The god of love dictates
Exactly how you feel
And who can argue with a god?
But isn’t it a little strange
That you so easily relinquish
Responsibility for something
Which is so much more important
Than almost anything else?
What happened to free-will?
What happened to commitment?
Whatever happened to forever?
And can this be a real kind of love
If it is so much out of your control?
If it so easily comes and goes?
Can this be the real thing
If it is so instantly given
And so easily lost?
Or is it, perhaps, something else?
Is it something
That merely shares the name of love?
An imposter, a pretender
Or even a downright lie?
Is the type of love
Into and out of which you fall so easily
Just gratification of the ego
An instinctive reaction
To archetypes
Preserved deep within our minds?
How interesting that love like this
Is jeopardised by knowing
The person you love too well!
I would rather
You knew me less
And loved me more
© Luke Andreski 2011. All rights reserved.


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