Letting Go of Jim Poem by Daisy Sidewinder

Letting Go of Jim

I dreamed I must
let go of you, the
man I loved
with so much turbulence
and still love now
sometimes
on lonely, bluesy nights

It was as if
your soul crawled
from its sooty cave
into the light
and speaking softly
unaccustomed
these long decades
to honest speech
blinded for a moment
by long-forgotten beauty
the forest greens
beyond the field
dark and warm
amidst the sunlit
prairie grass in which
we stood.

It’s too late you
say it’s far too late
vague shapes behind
me walking talking
slow and serious
a little too impersonal
say he is right
it is too late
there will be no
reprieve.

But no, I will not
listen, I have hope
to fix your ailing liver
sweep away the virus
rearrange the neurons
in your brain with
Keep Out signs for
your addictions
and bandaids
many bandaids
for the pains
of your existence.

There is no hope
no hope at all
the voices say
and you agree
and look away.
You can fight
this I tell you
I will argue
your case before a
judge, St. Peter himself,
and a jury
of twelve strong angels
good and true
and we will win
I say, for I will be
so eloquent
to make the angels cry.

No no, you shake your head
no no the voices echo
those unseen figures
pacing close behind me
a little out of focus
always behind me
no matter how I
turn to try to face them.
I think you see them
and the distant forest
I see that you are
like one half asleep
and half aware
not ready yet
to run across the grass
and plunge into the trees.
You are much younger
here, the you who
lives inside
your shell of pain.

I cannot ask
that you would
stay inside
the crusted cave of
your design.
The roof becomes
too heavy with the
weight of your collections
and the uninvited bats
and barnacles of
life and age.
I fear I recognize
some barnacles and cobwebs
there, remnants of those
days of you and I
accidently forgotten or cast off
of course, I never meant
to darken your windows.
I had the best intentions.

My heart says stay
please stay
don’t brush away
the cobwebs of
our life together
grimy and heavy
as they may seem to you.
I sometimes shine
those cobwebs lovingly
and patch them up
with crazy glue.
My soul says run
into the woods
with joy, be free.
But none of this
is really up to me.

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