High Hopes

I’m hungry
but I won’t touch
my plate
all the delicacies
in the world
would not satisfy me
and so,
how can I be helped?
What I salivate for
is not of this world
maybe it is
my unborn child
maybe it is
his budding,
not yet bloomed
love for me
maybe it is
the love withheld
from me
maybe it is
love to gift to
‘stead of waiting for
it from my mother,
my father,
my lover
maybe this thing is
fame not yet attained
maybe this thing is
Maybe, surely
it is that unsatisfied
vessel that we all know
so well
That itching space
that we all share—
an unfulfilled fantasy
so out-of-this-world
it will never be achieved
like how we imagine
our wedding days to be
so high on the shelf
it’s out-of-reach
better to just forget
it’s even there
ignorance is bliss
they say
but I deserve a knowledge
tried & true
I’m hungry
for love &
I beg it of you
So many dreams
tattered at their feet
I will not be like my parents,
I will not sell myself so cheap
How do you eat an elephant?
One bite at a time
How do you stay sane
with a hunger like mine?

5 thoughts on “High Hopes

  1. Terah, that is so very powerful and I’m afraid too true for many of us. Those who do not have love, have an un-saitiable appetite for it. Nothing else will fill it.
    Many children are born in an effort to give this “love” to the parent/s. Yet never having it makes it so difficult to give others. Some do manage to break through but often tend to settle for others who do not have it to give. Never settle for less Terah as you are amazing and deserve so much more! xx

      1. Oh Terah, I do understand. I was never allowed to be angry while other’s raged on me. When I finally got in touch with my anger, it was most prolific and answered questions I had not dared to ask. 🙂 x

  2. You sure got this right Terah. I am tempted to think, given the truth of that unsatisfied place in people and how common it is. that there is nothing so useless to the Universe as a satisfied person. It is like an evolutionary dead end. No place to go. I think of George Herbert and his poem, The Pulley. Do Luv ya Terah. David

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