I haven't written in so long, but today I was prompted, perhaps by divine suggestion, to write. I found this poem in its raw form, handwritten on a rumpled piece of stationery on the floor as I was cleaning...with no idea where it came from or when I wrote it. A poem about a poem that I never wrote.
In the Leaving
“In the Leaving” was the title of a poem I once wrote,
Though I never finished it
Or even began it really.
I could never truly imagine life without you.
Perhaps it would be like an expanse of dark and time;
Like being wholly separated from God.
Separated from hope.
You are my savior of sorts
And “In the Leaving” fills me
With a silent knowing,
Yet it can still mystify me
Like the line of a song that I cannot remember,
But it is on the tip of my tongue.