When Love Becomes Real
Authentically Valentine
Love comes easy
when it is & proceeds
as I approve,
simply Valentines & hearts.
But what does it mean?
Does it mean anything
before it becomes
contrary to my thoughts,
needs & desires,
sickness rather than health,
poorer,
a burden to be borne
willingly
‘til death do us part?
About the Creator
Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock
Retired Ordained Elder in The United Methodist Church having served for a total of 30 years in Missouri, South Dakota & Kansas.
Born in Watertown, SD on 9/26/1959. Married to Sandra Jellison-Knock on 1/24/1986. One son, Keenan, deceased.
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Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 7 hours ago in Poets
Should We Not Try to Get Too Political?
Here's something you often hear people say, "I try not to get too political." I understand the sentiment and I sympathize with it... while at the same exact time, I completely disagree with the notion. Whether it's referring to social media or wherever, it's kind of unavoidable. You can attempt to sidestep it, not engage, leave the less important things for actual politicians to discuss... you can want it to not take over your life, your conversations, your relationships, and that makes perfect sense.
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Comments (15)
Wow - Not sure what to make of this. I agree with LC you have to weather the storms to enjoy the good parts. You will always have both. Nicely written, although many will disagree with it.
Love has a pulse, I think. It ebbs and flows. You have to weather the snows to enjoy the spring. There's always going to be both.
I love this poem! I’ve lost a lot of loved before. Hoping one day to find a permanent love
Well… Now I have something to think about for the next several minutes. Well done, Sir!
Wonderfully expressed poetic love.
Deep, poignant and full of so many emotions
Oof. I wasn't ready for that one.
Wow Randy, this has a deep emotional message that many do not understand. You spelled it out brilliantly
When Love Becomes Real wonderful writing
The burning questions that must needs be asked out loud. If we don't talk about what we're feeling, does it go away? Why do we as humans do this? Why do we stuff stuff down? That was a necessary poem to write Randy. Thank you!
Love is a complicated thing, as simple as it may seem. Well done, Randy.
Ah this certainty was deep and very thought provoking! Loved your poem!
Fabulous!!! Was thinking of the wedding vowels and your poem incorporated them brilliantly!!!❤️❤️💕
Wonderful job!
Another great one, Brother. <3