Solitude   2
There.
Always there.
Wanting to share,
but wanting
to share
your way.
.
There.
Always there.
Wanting to share,
everything I do.
I take a class.
You do too.
.
There.
Always there.
Wanting to share
everything I do
as long as it
makes sense to
you.
.
There.
Always there.
Wanting to share,
but allowing
solitude
on a timer
as long as
I stop
when the time
is up.
.
There.
Always there.
Wanting to share,
but on your own
terms…
shopping,
deciding what I buy,
sherpa for photos,
but impatience at what I chose…
the timer is always on.

There.
Always there.
Wanting to share,
but solitude is timed.
“You said and hour,…”
“You said it would only be ten minutes
to finish that thought”
“The time is up,
you can finish that later…”

There.
Always there.
Wanting to share.
Suffocating.
And then the breach,
and silence was there.
Eight years til 9/11.
And then I realized
that time was short…
but I was afraid
remembering the 
dangers of rocking the 
boat
with another.

There 
Always there.
Wanting to share
and let the world think
that our world was the same.
I was warned by the sisters
that it would be difficult.
My boundaries would be 
challenged
by someone
wanting to be there, 
always there.
Wanting the world
to think,
only my name had changed
and you were there.
Always there. 

Then came the pain,
I needed help,
and 
you were the only one 
with time
to be there,
always there
to help
while the crises of the
family demand their own time
and expected me
to be there
always there.

There.
Always there.
You follow the rules.
Never show up 
unexpected,
unless 
I don’t answer the phone
expecting me 
to have fallen 
and not able to get to my
phone.

There.
Always there.
On your own terms.
Pushing for me 
to fit the mold.

Never touching.
Accepting of the role.
Feeling at peace with your maker.
Do you think
that being there
is the price you pay,
for breaking my soul,
breaking my trust.
My heart, 
stronger,
now,
at the places that shattered.
Mended and heading to peace.

There.
Always there.
A reason for everything, 
isolation,
self image…
I’ve got to think of Patty
and Beth, 
who didn’t care
what it took 
to do what they loved.

There.
Always there.
The image 
Created
that things haven’t changed.
Why do I feel bitter
that trying to be kind
ends up always
with 
you 
there.
Always there.

5/24/2011
from prompt Solitude

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