LONELINESS, A Poem From Another Lifetime

Date: October 11th, 2016

Previously on PZ: The Teaset And The Rosebush


I found the following poem in one of my many notebooks I've kept throughout the years; I am glad I do not feel loneliness this way anymore. This poem is from another lifetime, a different chapter in my past, written 6/8/04 when I was still attending high school, a time when I thought love was vacant from my life. I didn't realize then that I had Spirits within me to guide me & guard me. As I said, I don't feel loneliness as this poem describes so much anymore. But this poem is an elegant and concrete snapshot of a piece of what I thought in the past, things which are rare and precious to me, so I've decided to publish it here. Years later, although it is so sad, I still consider the poem as beautiful.


You feel it when you're at the end of your rope
when you just don't have hope, or lost something dear to you
You feel it when you sit in an empty room, the walls bare,
debris and clutter strewn about without much care
When the meaning pulls at you but they just aren't there
You feel it when you hear them talk in the other room
while you listen, and they're talking about you
and you're the only one to feel the pain or feel what you feel
or experience what you experience at that moment
You feel it in a classroom
when you're the only one standing still or not talking
you don't have much to talk about or much to talk to
you just sit there in a noisy room, writing or trying to look like you're busy,
but the thoughts just don't come
You feel it when you read a note of a friend you once had years ago
but the note was taken away and you just got it back just now
and you feel you were torn away from something good
and can't have that back
you only get the note back with the bitter pain of remembering
what it felt like to be accepted.
You'll never have it again. You feel it then.
You can't talk again, love again, or be loved or be talked to again.
And you say let it go, but the memory is still there
Just a picture, not the real thing
And you miss those kind words, the friendly banter
How you know that someone likes you and doesn’t mind you liking them
When you know you can’t have that relationship again.
And you want to keep writing about the hurt
But the feeling goes away quickly, leaving you numb
And you feel you were cheated out of some sorrow that you
could have preoccupied yourself with
And what do you do then?
You can’t write, you don’t have the feeling anymore
and the feeling is just a memory now, you can’t remember it exactly
the feeling has to be right there when you write
And you can’t tell someone, the feeling has to be spoken through you
Or else then it is only something you recite
as if reading the script of a play, no matter how much
you can relate to it, you can never really feel it
Because you never really experienced it
And the feeling isn’t real
When you tell someone about it but the feeling has actually long gone.
And no one else knows how you feel
What you know, what you think, what you are
Only God, but let’s say He doesn’t count
in what I am talking about.
You feel lonely then, because it is only you.
And nobody else.
It hits you real fast or real slow, then sinks in for years
And no one else can ever know.

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Tags: Poetry