Breaks

Oh for a break in the weather!

Rain is the new normal.

At least the marigolds 

are thriving in the wet,

and the leaves of the weeds

are large and glossy.

Where have you gone,

getting away before this rain began?

To leave in Spring was damn graceful,

right at the start of the gentle season

before monsoons and heat.

Time to break up, you said.

But you said it kindly, knowing

what I refused to admit.

Now, seven months later and more,

I rage at time going past,

afraid that at last it will break

the threads that stretch between us.

My friend said of a neighbour

the other day, 'Her husband

has been dead nine years.'

And I wonder about that.

How does one break from the past

enough to go on living?

I think my mother was only half alive

all those years after my stepfather's death.

I don't want that for me, 

and yet I don't want to forget you. 

Not that I can. Memories break out

like ghosts all over the house.

This poem is inconclusive.

There is no resolution yet.

I am taking a little break

from ghosts and weeping

to sit in my garden and write,

during a small stop in the rainy weather.

Poetic Asides April Poem A Day Challenge 2013, 12: Broke.