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If We Die

Updated on November 5, 2011
"Headlights" | Source

"If We Die"

if we die

let us die together

one sigh

on two tongues

under that gray-green quilt

if we die

let it be together

on a March night

on that road

you love

if we die

let us die together

because I cannot bear

your empty clothes


your vacant pillow


I have never been much of a poet. I prefer the long, loose lines of prose over the tight construction of poetry. However, when I met my husband five years ago, I discovered that I did have it in me to build a few lines of poetry with him as my muse. To my amazement, I began writing love poems, the least likely of all the poems for me to write. I started with concrete nouns and went from there. Later, I started playing with abstract concepts and sensory adjectives.

While I would not say I am a strong poet, nor a particularly talented one, I do think that poetry from an interior place has legitimate value, though perhaps not to others. I very infrequently share any of my poetry because I am not a Poet with a capital "P." I'm a writer and I write prose. However, with the advent of the HubPages contest and this recent story, I decided to share this poem from my journal.

I woke one night drenched in sweat and immediately reached for my journal. I had dreamed of a morning when I rolled over to find that my husband had passed away in his sleep. The moment of terror that overtook me the moment I realized he was not breathing is still vivid. I remember a confusion of emotion: loss, anger (we are so young!), and hopelessness. When I woke, I had to put those feelings anywhere other than where they were--racing through my mind.

I have long teased my husband that we should make a pact to die together no matter what. The thought of not sharing the entirety of my life with him is dismal to me—not even worth considering, though realistically, I must. Likewise, knowing I might die first and leave him lonely is just not an option. That leaves only one solution: we die together, naturally or unnaturally, hopefully at a ripe old age.

I am positive that if I ever must learn to live without my husband, I will survive. Likewise, I know for a certainty that he could survive without me, and even be happy. However, when I ponder existence without the love of my life, I do not see myself being whole again. How can anyone be whole when half their person has left them? The thought of living out years and years of my life without my partner, therefore, makes my heart ache.

I hope you enjoyed this very brief poem. Please forgive its amateur nature; I am well aware that poetry is not my strength. However, I hope the honesty of the emotion at least is apparent to you. Some may be able to relate to these feelings; others may still be searching for someone who fills this part of their lives. It may be in vogue to make love less about companionship, true companionship, but I believe that real love is based upon a commitment to be partners in life--with all the vulnerability that brings with it.


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    • mollymeadows profile image

      Mary Strain 6 years ago from The Shire

      Seattlegirl, this is very touching. I think you're right that simple companionship is a big part of love, and that commitment is its heart.

      And your poem is a little like a haiku, or perhaps three haikus on the same theme...spare and poignant.

    • rebekahELLE profile image

      rebekahELLE 6 years ago from Tampa Bay

      It's really very beautiful. I love the love in your words.