Recoveredbulimic’s Weblog

Here’s a little poem I wrote, dedicated to my mother…

Cutting through clutter

Cutting through clutter is harder than butter
Even when it’s frozen.
This is a trying destiny
The path that I have chosen.

I’m not on the road again, I’m on the phone again
To avoid this impending sense of doom
I can’t go out, I have to stay
I have to face this cluttered room.

I’m at loose ends, I call my friends
For a dose of inspiration.
They build me up and help assuage
The creeping desperation.

Clearing up a few square feet
A solid floor I soon will greet.
Clearing up a space for fun
Take an hour, get something done.

Chalk around an opening – space to be me
Dress up in collected clothes the way I want to be.
It’s like a fairytale or game
Working through the mess
Confusion is no mere illusion,
but a massive source of stress.

Using the things I bought for someday,
Because I’m not allowed to shop.
Until I have cleaned my room all up
Further collecting has to stop.

Take a picture of each cleared space
Tack it up upon your wall
Put all the pictures together.
Glimpse your true room and stand tall!

I want a boyfriend,
But I have to clean my room.
I want to go to the movies,
But I have to clean my room.
I want to paint a picture,
But I have to clean my room.
I’ll never have any fun again
If I don’t do it soon.
I can’t go out and play until I’ve cleaned my room today.

Once I saw you enter this world
and now I’ve watched you leave.
Powerless, helpless by your side
I am consumed by grief.

You walked with me on this path for a while
I hoped you’d be here longer,
but fate and powers beyond my control
have proven they are stronger.

At least I was able to give you more
than some receive their whole lives:
love, attention, and caring devotion
upon which your tender soul thrives.

So full of promise,
with a future so bright,
that you have to leave now
just doesn’t seem right.

I thank God that I knew to treasure you
and for all the things that we did,
for the dear memories we could collect
before farewell we had to bid.

Many days I sat next to you
as you prepared to go,
and felt that aching endless pain
only a parent can know.

You’re destined for a higher plane,
a brighter point of view.
Wherever you go, please remember me
and how much I love you.

I can’t claim to have used the time wisely, but I definitely used it instead of just killing it. Oh, I could have been listening to music all this time, but instead I started reading through old poems! You know, it’s like when you look for a photograph, and 4 hours later you’ve gone through 2 boxes of loose photos as well as all the albums. A little trip down memory lane.

Meanwhile, my daughter just walked through the door. So I can say good night, sleep tight, and that’s it for old poems today. Oh, tomorrow is a holiday. I don’t usually let my kids go out on school nights.

Anyway, this is one more unexpected example of what you can do late at night when you’re all alone — instead of eating.