Elegy For A Broken Heart

Elegy For A Broken Heart
She may have been the love of my life, but then I said that for every woman I had a relationship with...stupid romantic that I am. We burned brightly, the center of families and friends, upwardly trending, the epitome of boomer generation ideals. The perfect couple. Until we weren’t. It falls on me, as they all do. A heart I broke, a love I left, but what we had for so long was so good...leaving was never meant to negate it. The intensity of love has always been my problem, and I’ve walked in times when it dwindled to nothing. Our lives diverged, but I should have held the thread, checked in, suffered her judgment, just to let her know I remembered it all. Would that she could have reached out, for some last reassurance, a word or touch only we would know, just to give me a chance to be there. But that is my selfishness, leaking through my grief. Love is a lifetime. I know that, because of the hurt in my heart. There is always more to people than can ever be left behind. On a summer evening I find myself at an old haunt, a good ways up along the tract of the Siamese Pond Wilderness. I spent some good days fishing up here, for trout and land locked salmon, and a good many forays from here out to Peaked Mountain to overlook its namesake pond in a bowl some 700 feet below. This evening the lake is mostly glass, with Balm of Gilead Mountain basking in the sunset and reflecting like a million shards of emeralds on the surface, only slightly brighter than was the green of her eyes. The vessel on the water drifts out in the panorama, steady in the calm. I stand on the shore of the lake, upstream of a rocky delta of hard truths washed from a flood of remembrance, and give up a word and a memory to hold for her journey through to the far shore.

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Filename: Elegy for a Broken Heart
Image Size: 2048x1052 / 1.5MB; Thirteenth Lake Adirondacks NY New York lake mountains ADK summer shore Ray Palmer Photography birches canoe water reflections landscape panorama
Contained in galleries: Adirondack Panoramas

Elegy For A Broken Heart<br />
She may have been the love of my life, but then I said that for every woman I had a relationship with...stupid romantic that I am. We burned brightly, the center of families and friends, upwardly trending, the epitome of boomer generation ideals. The perfect couple. Until we weren’t. It falls on me, as they all do. A heart I broke, a love I left, but what we had for so long was so good...leaving was never meant to negate it. The intensity of love has always been my problem, and I’ve walked in times when it dwindled to nothing. Our lives diverged, but I should have held the thread, checked in, suffered her judgment, just to let her know I remembered it all. Would that she could have reached out, for some last reassurance, a word or touch only we would know, just to give me a chance to be there. But that is my selfishness, leaking through my grief. Love is a lifetime. I know that, because of the hurt in my heart. There is always more to people than can ever be left behind. On a summer evening I find myself at an old haunt, a good ways up along the tract of the Siamese Pond Wilderness. I spent some good days fishing up here, for trout and land locked salmon, and a good many forays from here out to Peaked Mountain to overlook its namesake pond in a bowl some 700 feet below. This evening the lake is mostly glass, with Balm of Gilead Mountain basking in the sunset and reflecting like a million shards of emeralds on the surface, only slightly brighter than was the green of her eyes. The vessel on the water drifts out in the panorama, steady in the calm. I stand on the shore of the lake, upstream of a rocky delta of hard truths washed from a flood of remembrance, and give up a word and a memory to hold for her journey through to the far shore.