Life Sentence

When Eternity feels more like a sentence,

and I am tired of picking the slivers of egg shell from my soles each night,

When nothing I can do is good enough-

and your silence screams ingratitude-

A quiet dread has eclipsed the anticipation of your homecoming each night

I am tired, to the bone, and weary from shouldering this silent crippling load.

It’s not bad enough yet to be bad, or good enough to be ok.

     This is a test of endurance-  

we’ve reached a plateau, too short from which to see the distance-

I stand: underestimated, unappreciated and alone.

Too weak to surrender, still clinging to a frail tendril of faith, 

I watch you with a glimmer of hope- 

still wanting to speak to you even though my words are                          

                                                                                                                       sliced from the air with one look.  

Ears -still s t r a i n i n g to hear 

                  and to listen 

even though your disease twists your mouth and dampens your words.

Fear that I will say something wrong or do something wrong  shadows my every thought.

Words, untarnished by years, still ring out at me- when speeding through the dark in a sliver car you conversationally ripped my heart out. Years have passed and I have never truly recovered, even though our daily lives resumed and I tried to pretend that I wasn't

               waiting for the apology

                                                 that never followed.

I wonder, where do I fit here? If I fit here at all.

(Ooooh angst alert!! This was written in the darker moments of dealing with a spouse who has the disease of depression. Things get better- then get bad again. It's a balancing act. This was on the bottom end of the teeter-totter. I hope it illustrates how I feel in a somewhat optimistic way....)