Only Human

What can be grasped in the depth of one’s gaze
peering mysteriously through curtains
of illusion, how to ever truly comprehend;
I sit gazing at that image now, the one of you
and me on the water, snow-crested Mauna Kea
backdrop, you in your element and me
in mine, I suppose;

Presentation unfailingly graceful, care ever
in the details, radiance beaming clear through,
and yet tortuous as life was to you anyway,
it ended. Just like that.

Wincing at your self proclaimed ugliness,
shaming parental voices never stilled,
and more beautiful a being I have rarely met
(choice of verb flipping flash card ‘known,’
rejected out of hand).

Impossible to fully intimate another we bar
no hold on the ego’s livery, while I carry
on perceiving shadows and crevices furrowed
deeper than appearances. You harbored
no guile, yet all I could glimpse
in those luminous dark eyes was wisdom
and experience; timber solid as trees
and just as vulnerable to the axe.

photo: Hipstamatic rendering of guava leaf – Pololu Valley trail, 2015

10 comments on “Only Human”

  1. She sounds as if she was a special one, if I can use that term fairly. H ❤

    • Mahalo, Hariod. Yes, she was, but also very human (italicize that word). She was fallible as we all are, and complex. I held no illusions.

      She also attempted suicide at least once before, so I knew she was not happy being on this lovely earth, despite her extensive gardens and beautiful home.

      I’ve had 5 family members die, all my brothers in their 50’s. And that was tragic, but more predictable, I guess. Given their history.
      My friend’s death left me feeling bereft in a way I did not expect. I don’t bond with many people – tend to be a loner. I can be sociable when needed, but that’s another thing entirely. When I do find someone with whom I can share my deepest self, that person remains my friend for life. I count these kinds of treasures on one hand. And they are all distant companions (save my husband) since we moved to the islands. This gal was here, 10 minutes away. And though we didn’t see one another every day or even every week, one would call the other at just the right time and we would plan a day at the beach or driving to the other side of the island, laughing and chattering and forgetting our responsibilities and troubles for the day. Covering every subject under the sun and beyond. Diving deep and going into orbits of imagination.

      The rawness has well passed, though I did write a fair amount of poetry around it. Trying to space it out a bit 😉 Reflections on life, meaning and purpose if there is any was easy to do upon her passing.

      Sending you love this day, and thanks always for your kind words. ❤

      • You said: “I don’t bond with many people – tend to be a loner. When I do find someone with whom I can share my deepest self, that person remains my friend for life. I count these kinds of treasures on one hand. And they are all distant companions” – I feel exactly the same way, Bela, and like you, can number those so close on one hand, and again like you, they all live far away from me. I would do anything for them, because the trust is absolute, and there would be no hesitation in making myself vulnerable in any way if it were to help them. When you love your friends, I believe you want to give to them without reservation, whether it be material or immaterial giving. I imagine you would have walked through fire for your dear departed friend. Much love to you, and to your friend’s eternal tracings upon the world. H ❤

      • Aloha Hariod, and you’ve once again grasped the crux of what my rambling is trying to accomplish 😉 Love to you, dear. And peace. ❤

  2. Oh Bela, I read this a week ago…and it touched me deeply. I was not able to properly respond at that time and when I clicked on your name this post came up…just where I left it…hanging lonely in the wind…just as your wounded soul. I remember saying to you that it helped me to post about the raw feelings inside. I wish to offer you some kind of solace…and compassion that I understand this kind of loss…well…I understand the kind of pain that is left…not the event.
    I thank you for sharing your being at this level. I send you a warm embrace and a loving smile. My soul travels the distance and is there for you. Peace will alternate with pain…I wish you Blessitude ♡♡

    • Thank you, Lorrie, from the bottom of my heart for your kind response to this post. These kinds of things are what life is about, and unavoidable: life, death, joy, grief. I am fully engaged in feelings when it comes to all of it. And thankfully I FEEL what I feel, rather than to stuff my emotions and have them erupt into sickness of some form. And I do write from the raw places, yes, to ‘get it out,’ but also to offer it so that others might know they are not alone with their own deepest sentiments. I’m glad we found one another, if only on WordPress. We all need support and encouragement, I don’t care how strong we appear to be. All humans are vulnerable, all harbor memories and self recriminations conditioned into us in our early years.
      The peace you speak of has fully returned. Now it’s back to business as usual – and I’m again so grateful for the loving support of folks like you who have helped smooth the way back into balance. I was indeed knocked off-kilter for a few weeks. Blessings to you, dear one. ❤

      • Aw, Bela…thank you for your hear felt response…my heart can feel your energy 🙂 I love what you said…that you are able to FEEL rather than stuff those emotions down…and then the interesting part…and have them erupt into sickness of some form!!! I have spent a lifetime doing this and then “feeling” the effects of the sickness instead!!! Much better to feel it and deal with it in the moment!
        I am also very happy to have met you here…and who knows…maybe one day we will meet in person 😉 Much live…many blessings ♡♡♡

  3. I especially like those few lines here.

  4. I missed out the word “last”. 😳

    ‘yet all I could glimpse
    in those luminous dark eyes was wisdom
    and experience; timber solid as trees
    and just as vulnerable to the axe.’


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