Angele Toomey Poetry

Today’s poem was inspired by people who wander off (eg physically, emotionally, spiritually), becoming lost to those around them. I know that I can live too much in my own head and sometimes wish to retreat to the safety of my nest for extended periods of time. Modern life doesn’t usually accommodate such luxuries, so I make do with staring into the middle distance for extended periods of time.

The lover
I have been the lover with
a short attention span
Who has forgotten the sound
of you name.
I am the lover who wandered off
into the forest and never came back.

I am the lover who provides no
answers in these words,
Words that are shapes
running together, pairing up.

I am failed by the overwhelming 
sense of dread
That you would be repulsed by my return
as much as my absence.
All that selfishly lost time
in the forest - silent and dark-
wrapped in its comforting embrace
of cold stillness.
I have become afraid of
the light, and movement, and words.
I am as lost to myself as I am to you.

I am the lover who will fade from memory,
The one whose name you will forget.
I am the lover you will perhaps
stumble across one day,
as you wander the forest.