I stand in a broken city

smoking rubble and debris scattered among the ashes

I stand alone.

I walk, rummaging through the litter

once important things that have been reduced to cinder by a whisper.

A single word.


I sift through a pile of broken dreams

memories in technicolor

all of the “should haves”

“would haves”

“could haves”

displayed before my eyes

mocking me.

I stand, and brush my hands on my pants

look around myself and sigh

sometimes you have to break before you can begin to heal

to rebuild.

I have to wonder what people will say.

will the “I told you so’s” hurt more than those who think I am simply weak?

Will they see how broken I really am?

Will they care?

Why should I care what people think?

Why do their opinions get to me?

I must think of my daughter – what’s best for her

and do it.

I gather my tools around me

my heart, my mind, what little strength is left

I take one last look at what once was

and begin the foundation of what will be.


3 thoughts on “Solitude

  1. Pingback: Index of Posts. | Inside the Mind of a Dramatic Mother

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