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(I am going to do something new. Sort of a hybrid between journaling and poetry. This exercise of sorts is all about listening to oneself and understanding what is really happening internally through my emotions, dreams, and ideas. How God may be coming to you. It comes from St. Ignatius of Loyola’s “Examen”. I am going to do it at least once a day for the next 30 days and see how it goes.)

Here are some definitions by Merriam-Webster online for desolate and synonyms for the verb to console.  (then think “to make desolate” and “to be consoled by”)
-devoid of inhabitants and visitors : deserted
-joyless or sorrowful through or as if through separation from a loved one
-showing the effects of abandonment and neglect :dilapidated  barrenlifeless
-devoid of warmth, comfort, or hope : gloomy                                                                            Console– assurecheercomfortreassuresolacesoothe
Desolations and Consolations #1
~Tasting compassion and disdain in the same bite isn’t pleasant
The first makes me want to say ‘yes’, and leaves me guilty when I say ‘no’
The latter pushes me toward apathy and greedy isolation
I’ve been told it comes down to balance,
Say ‘yes’ once in awhile, so that each ‘no’ counts
But what of the truth?
When I want to say ‘no’, I should not follow guilt’s sway to ‘yea’!
And after three years of having my ‘no’ disrespected
After three years of being pushed, prodded, cajoled, manipulated
The answer is always going to be ‘no’
When I don’t feel safe, meaning, when I can’t trust
And I know that we are so conversationally incompatible,
why does shared DNA dictate that we must associate?
Alas, if it were that simple, I’d slip away, like I’ve done before,
But lacking means and thereby options, we are here
Separated by 14 steps, attempting a symbiosis which
has required sacrifices from me I haven’t wanted to release
And I am realizing the most incriminating piece of evidence
Is that our tie goes much deeper and wider than shared ancestry
We’ve both been adopted into a better family,
Been brought together by a truer blood
And we each have our place in this world and the next
Which for me, right now, means, well I’m not sure
I have for so long confused love with duty, guilt with generosity
If there is another path yet undiscovered which allows me
to want to say ‘yes’ without fear as often as I want to say ‘no’
I pray I find it, the sooner the better because right now I feel:
Desolate~
~Thank you for eating my redistributed leftovers.
As we were out of pasta sauce Sunday,
I mixed Goya Recaito into browned ground beef
after it had been cooked in Sylvet’s guava bbq sauce,
added the last sliver of cheddar cheese,
threw it over elbow pasta and called it dinner.
Then last night you let me mix it into brown rice
and fill your bowl to the rim.
Thank you for picking me up from work, and
driving me down this morning in your pajamas.
Thank you for sitting through 3 episodes of Fringe
just because I love that show.
Thank you for loving me through one of the worst
fights in the four years of our marriage, and
loving me enough two days later to listen to me
tell you what I would like you to do to change,
though my promises of change have often been empty.
Thank you for letting me escape you for 4 days,
even though we’ll miss the 4th of July together.
Thank you for saying “my Julie Ann” seamlessly in a
discussion about ladders and outdoor paint.
Being with you is a:
Consolation~
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