In January, I went on a retreat in Monterey to hear poet and philosopher David Whyte. Ever since, I’ve found myself jotting down poems. The difference between my poetry and David Whyte’s poetry can be summed up in five words: his is excellent, mine mediocre. However, that hasn’t slowed me down, to the dismay of my husband who is forced to be my sounding board.
—- This poem is about a wife–usually a stay-home mother– who felt she lost herself during her marriage. Through the years I’ve heard this story pour out during a mediation, usually with great sadness and tears.
NO CHOICE
I said “I do”
then said “I don’t.”
He said, “let’s try”
I said “I won’t.”
I broke his heart
I broke my own,
three days a week
I’m all alone.The other days
I deal with grief,
my children’s tears
and disbelief.
Some judge me hard,
some understand,
I had no choice
but to demandA life, respect
a sense of self,
more life-sustaining
than comfort and wealth.
I gave it up
to get me back,
the person I’d lost
in life bric a brac.
By Alison Patton
Copyright January 2015
All Rights Reserved