Even at the end

Even at the end of my patience, 

I refuse to say, 

you don't matter to me any more. 

For that is not the truth. 

How can you not, 

when you were my whole world for years! 

Even at the edge, 

tears rushing down my eyes, 

my whole being trembling, 

every nerve of my body aching, 

even as you watch me cry, 

in studied silence, 

and refuse to hold me, 

console me, 

be accountable, 

say you're sorry, 

or even just simply say that you understand, 

I refuse to say I am walking away, 

because I know you and this that we have between us, 

is beyond redemption. 

Because it is not. 

Because nobody ever is. 

This trembling, infuriated, infuriating beast trapped in a confrontational space, 

between two hurt souls, 

and two hurting hearts, 

this that feels like everything but love, 

is only an apparition, 

a ghost of a love that once was. 

I refuse to disown it. 

Because it's still 

love and other things. 

Even at the fag end of 

the sufferable, 

as you demean, berate 

and trivialize, 

me, my struggle, 

my work, 

my Politics, 

and you say that it frustrates you no end, 

that I can still hold on to it all, 

while you can't! 

Even when you say, repeat and reiterate that you are 

in this marriage, 

only for the child's sake, 

and that I am your worst experience, ever, 

I refuse to say these have been 

the most painful years of my life too, 

for it is in this pain

that I have discovered 

everything I am capable 

and not capable of, 

and we made a baby! 

A little life, we both so dearly love! 

And so, I refuse to demean, berate and trivialize you. 

I hear you. 

I respect you struggle. 

I understand your dilemmas. 

And I still love you for being the father of my child, 

and for being the person You! 

The man I once fell in love with. 

How can I not! 

But I will walk away. 

For myself, 

and for You, 

so we can reclaim

all, everything, 

all parts of ourselves, 

that we have lost, 

in trying to make it work. 

I walk away, 

but not in rejection of what we had, 

but because trying 

can sometimes get too tiring, 

and it can start feeling like forever, 

in the present continuous, 

when you've tried too long, 

too painstakingly, 

and it has gotten you nowhere! 

Like a heavy heavy load

upon the chest, 

too heavy to lift off, 

too massive to keep! 

And so I walk away, 

heart-broken;

like that little Seagull, 

made to stand in the center, 

not for honour but for shame! 

And all for having chosen to love; 

but with the satisfaction

that I tried.

That we tried.

17th October, 2023