The Bench

she sits
on her favorite bench
plucked from an antique shop
its wooden slats worn smooth
by countless people resting as
she is now
amidst the pines
tall and shrouded by the suns
dappled light filtering all
around

she looks back at her life
which stands before her
the place she called home

memories whirring
about a long time ago
last year
yesterday
today

she felt the deepness
of the pine needles
beneath her feet
and pushed her sadness
into them

she wondered what really
happened to him
to the us
to the always & forever
there were no easy answers
except time
they let slip away
never taking advantage
of just enjoying each other
the time to really get to know
the other beyond the shallowness
of day to day

that's when other things creep in
other wants
desires
reckless behavior
bad decisions
to watch him turn away
was the hardest thing
she had ever had to endure

she was not one to chase
either he wanted her
or he didn't
he chose didn't
thousands of times

so why?
why did she stay?

just going through the motions
of every day
numbing herself against
the reality that things were
falling apart
but hiding here would not
change a thing

she stared at the home
that had not felt like home
for a long time
her only refuge had become this
inanimate object

she gazed up through the
tall pines
she closed her eyes and breathed
in the sweet scent
there was a shift in the breeze
a tightening in the atmosphere
a storm was coming
she could feel it

it was as if the universe was telling
her to shift her sails
and get out
or continue to get
whiplashed

she got up and went inside
the winds rose to a high pitch
howl, bellowing its voice
around every corner

in the distance there was
a loud snap
she peered out the window
to see that a large branch
had fallen
where just moments before
she had been sitting
her bench splintered
and broken
the frame crushing under
the weight


the irony of life
exposed
she smiled through the tears
that streaked her cheeks
as she watched her only
place of solitude left slowly
splintering apart
she held on
her knuckles white
against the pressure
of holding on
but for what purpose
nothing is permanent
not him
not the trees
or her bench
nothing….


she let go