• Johanna Kompacher

Diary of a Love Ending (I)

Auguste Rodin, Lovers

Deep, deep peace and rest now. Longing. Melancholy. Tenderness. Grief. Loss. Beauty. Unity. Solitude. A universe so full of pain and gratitude. There is never one without the other. If you want to experience all of it, you have to let it touch you. Touch you so deeply it burns. A broken heart is an open heart. While we are vulnerable, we are naked as one.

Everything I ever loved and lost is part of me. It’s woven through the fabric of my being; blanketed under my skin, tangled in my hair. The heart is a muscle – with every rift, it grows.

Just now, I felt the pain clear as seen through the surface of a calm lake: the brief searing.

I halted. I breathed deeply, thought of nothing. Only felt.

It was so raw and beautiful. Pain is not a claw, an oppressor. It’s just a wistful wave passing through us. Moving us in the process, making us resound. Making us tremble.

--- Six words poems of loss ---

I remember your scent; how miraculous.

You will not be here tomorrow.


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