where the writers are
Something is not right

Some days it is like this.I just dont understand what happened.And so I write here,hoping to one day make sense of it all,feeling kind of silly for constantly returning to this subject.butToday it got me,held me in its grip sucking the life out of me,replacing it with crushing dispair.Writing is therapy for me.some days are good some days are bad. Here is where I am today.



Something is not right

I can feel it

Inside those unanswered questions

Me, dropped abruptly on my head

No warning (or if there was I didn’t hear it)

Crushing despair enfolds me

Like a lead weight upon my soul

The emptiness that comes with feeling insignificant, invisible,

When one’s words go unanswered.

And I ask myself

Is there some inherent badness in me,

That causes the very thing I seek

To slip away, just as it becomes evident

 as a longed- for treasure?


Silence is the cruelest rebuke

Because I do not know

What it was that made one so dear

Turn away so suddenly,

I turn things around in my mind

Thinking of this and of that

Going over those letters written daily for many months

That brought instant tears ,laughter, anger

Passions   awakened that had long slumbered

In a sea of numbness

Living my life as though I didn’t see and hear

The calling of a parallel one

Hiding in the wings

Oh, sometimes it would appear briefly, in my mind

But I would abruptly push it away


That is only a dream

Too late to become a reality

And so I lived for so many years,

The emptiness always just behind my eyes.


But when least expected, there he was

His words written on a page

Saying words I had always felt

But never said

Like in a novel

When you read a thought an author has

And you say, ”yes. I have thought that too”

 And you feel less alone

alone with your invisible thoughts.

So I say to myself now,

“Something is not right about this”

It makes no sense

Oh, I know there are the conventions, the rules

That we are all ordered to live by

Even if they no longer fit

With who we are,

And I say “f” it all

I am angry that it no longer fits

That I can’t smash myself into that box

Because he took me out

And showed me another way

The way I had always felt in my heart

To be true

Poor in money ,but rich in spirit,

Rich in creativity, poor in practicality

Able to love more than one man

For different reasons

Yes, something is not right

And he will not tell me

He stubbornly refuses even that explanation

Which really takes me out

Making me wonder

What is really going on?