ON EMPTINESS
Emptiness.
What a word.
When I hear it, I think:
Hunger.
Which it is.
I am empty, in a way.
I hunger for things I do not
have, and cannot have,
and for the me I used to be.
Would I live my life
differently?
Who knows? Not me.
I wrote a poem in the 70s
about my ex -
I said I knew I missed him
by the way I was empty inside.
And it's happening again.
Different me, different guy.
I fill my life with books and words
and friends, and my grandson
and I still have 363 blank days
to go.
What will fill the emptiness,
(or who)?
I'm looking forward
to 2005.
Maybe then I'll know.
©Christina 1-2-04
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