Ellen

Living alone, left with my bone of contention,

Living alone, left to my own invention.

Hour long minutes timing my life away,

History coloured, future shabby and grey.

I was once young and felt the surge in my veins,

My clamber through childhood; its joy, its penance, its pains.

They said I had beauty and charm, my prospects were bright,

And then I met John; at a party on Valentine’s Night.

I knew he was married; what’s a wife between friends?

For that’s what we were! Plato never offends.

But slowly it changed, Cupid’s tentacles grew

One day our eyes and lips met, everyone knew!

Then passion and power and fury, the glory of love,

White and intense in our hearts; black up above.

We knew it was true, fully fashioned, buried so deep,

Why doesn’t petulant promise its promises keep?

I went away, to satisfy mother and wife

And children and clergy and gossips, yardsticks of life.

I pined and I yearned, aching for him who was mine,

Guilty, condemned and everyday paying the fine.

Other John’s came and shoulders to cry on and weep,

But always I paddled in shallows, never the deep.

Sooner or later, tired of diversion in vein

Memories and outlandish hopes drove me insane.

And then the long haul, the search for normal pursued,

This “normal” much sought out by analysts measuring ‘mood’.

I left my old life and moved my body and bones

To settle in Kerry in cottage of mortar and stones.

Now I sit by my window and watch life passing me by,

Once yearly on Valentine’s Night I get drunk and cry.

I wait now for Him to call me to share in His love

When sorrow and hurting and pain will be banished, above.