Rearview

clarissavibes

In the rearview I see fragments

Blurry fragments

Of wind and gusts and gray

Of sunshine, and sand and the slow heavy air of summer

I see passion and fire,

And iciness blowing through life like warm breath on a January morning

I see doors upon doors closing. Slamming.

In sequence down a long, endless hallway  

And I just let it happen

I watched each door close, I heard the sequential slam

And I felt the house shake each and every time

Jolting me awake for a fleeting second that I could never catch

 

In the rearview I see questions

They wait, just swaying in the breeze

I relive petty arguments and give them different endings

Writing furiously, pencil to paper, as if there is a clock to beat

Things to be undone

I relive thoughts and feelings I had

Combing through them with white gloves and a magnifying glass

Leaving them untouched but painstakingly examined

Was I wrong? Was he right?

I remember things he said

Words that cut me so quickly

I didn’t even know I was bleeding

 

 

In the rearview I see reasons        

On tiny pieces of paper, overflowing a mason jar

Reasons I loved, reasons I stayed

I pull them out one by one

Smoothing the creases and bent corners

And I read them, I feel them

Slip through my soul

I know them. They feel like home

I deliver them casually back into the jar        

Hoping they look untouched, like I hadn’t just been there

Hadn’t felt the weight of their burden on my weakened soul, my broken heart 

 

  • Author: clarissavibes (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 16th, 2020 18:16
  • Comment from author about the poem: From a few years ago...
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 21
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Quemis

    This is so relatable.

    Gah. Too close to home.

  • jarcher54

    A totally different poem on second reading, when the last stanza is foreseen. The slamming doors become literal slams of literal doors in an abusive relationship. Thanks for preserving what must have been a painful experience. I hope it did not linger.



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