Notes from a Dying Woman

Tossed and turning
I am worn out, wrung out
Like a dirty dishrag done its work
The beauty of youth, faded
The wisdom of time, unreachable
A tear on the cheek, wasted
Replaced by liars and outward appearances

Love whispered from the corner of lips
At convenient moments in the dark
Love unreciprocated
Love that was not love at all
What’s it all for? It’s dissolving from memory
Art for art’s sake, seldom
Art as a healing potion, vanity
Art to speak the unspeakable, unsatisfying

The stench of it all fills my nostrils
My own ineptitude
Their disgusting games and revolting lies
Self sacrifice like a martyr
Hand to forehead: woe! woe! woe for me!

All I really wanted, elusive
Sick and dying and past my prime
Yes, wrung out and smelling sour
The sun grows dim and colorless
Sheets cling to my ankles
I find myself weeping again
For naught, for naught, for naught


tara caribou | ©2021

24 Comments on “Notes from a Dying Woman

  1. i want to say this the way it lands initially just isn’t so – the old, the worn, the wrinkled, the betrayed, the tired – there is so much beauty and magic in there … i loved this so much, thankyou! did you mean to spell it out this way? it hit like a train.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This really hits the spot, Tara. I guess we all feel like this from time to time and it’s hard to accept that we are more than what is perceived by the outside. Great piece.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Pingback: Notes from a Dying Woman – Nelsapy

  4. I wanted to linger here silently after reading this – so many pearls of truth you strung together to make into this beautiful poem, truths that hit us hard in the gut and heart, the undeniable experience of being here on this planet often brings such stark revelations.
    Love unreciprocated
    Love that was not love at all – this jumped out at me and everything else after that is said so beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Straight fire out of this one. My favourite verse being:

    “Love whispered from the corner of lips
    At convenient moments in the dark
    Love unreciprocated
    Love that was not love at all
    What’s it all for? It’s dissolving from memory
    Art for art’s sake, seldom
    Art as a healing potion, vanity
    Art to speak the unspeakable, unsatisfying”

    Because I can in many ways find myself here. Especially the part of love being whispered at convenient moments in the dark. Lol perhaps it’s my cynical interpretation but I feel this is where I often find platitudes and other love bombing types landing. Or rather, a “flowers at the funeral and not prior” type of situation. People often show they care when they feel it has become important to do so.

    The three lines reflective of art and the futility that comes with it are also particularly striking.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks OD… I can see that you really got the crux of the piece. And I agree wholeheartedly. There’s a futility and also a burning desire in the act of creation as well as love.

      I always appreciate your thoughts. I really do.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Pingback: Notes from a Dying Woman - TylerLatvala

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