Most of the poems I write seem to come to me unbidden. Sometimes it begins with a single line that pops into my head. The poem grows from that single thought, like a plant from a seed. Other times, they seem to write themselves. The words come faster than I can write them down. It is very seldom that I simply choose a subject and then write a poem about it.

The poem below was one that seemed to write itself. At the time, I was reading some messages that were sent to me by friends shortly after the death of the love of my life. My eyes began to mist up and then the tears and sobs came, just as I wrote in the poem. Do not look for hidden messages or fanciful alliteration in this poem. The poem is not an allegory or metaphor – it is a real experience from real life.

Thinking of You

At first, it is only
wetness in the eyes
then come the real tears
and the sobs.
From somewhere comes
this strange, squeaky voice
full of pain saying,
"Oh God, how can I go on?"
Then slow, deep breaths
until the pain eases
and I realize that 'how'
doesn't matter.
It is more a matter of why.
I will go on,
because I must.

John Allen January, 2008