Recluse - A Poem

Recluse – A Poem

I am becoming a reclusive writer,

pulling an all-nighter.

Relationships with other spirits

are becoming exhausting.

I went from being a social creature

to just finding it daunting.

And when I write,

I don’t need to talk.

I can get really quiet.

Just give me a pencil, pen, or even chalk.

Or give me the computer

to type out my words.

Soon people will say

have you recently heard

anything from her?

The answer will be no,

you have not heard a peep.

You have not heard me speak

but you could look to my writing

for the thoughts that I keep.

Reclusive is considered strange.

Reclusive is considered weird.

But my energy has been depleted

and zapped,

something that I feared

would happen.

So I’ll just keep to myself for a while

as a recluse

until I can be of better use

to the rest of my fellow members

of society.

Like a wilted plant,

I will one day bloom again.

I will not regret the

time that I spent

trying and trying

to make things better.

Every phone call.

Every letter.

I know that you can

occasionally relate

to what I am going through,

when you try and you try

but no matter what you do,

someone seems to have a

problem with you.

When my energy is replenished

and I am feeling fortified,

then I can share myself with others again.

Until then, I will just be a recluse.

In the past year,

I cried,

I cried,

I almost died

from the grief

of trying to nurture

some human relationships

when there was just

too much animosity,

like they say, “too much beef”

Someone will say to him,

“You have some kind of beef with her?

But she is so nice.”

And then he will say that

“You better think twice.

She is not very nice at all.

She is very feisty and

she has had a lot of gall.”

He will then say,

“She was always running her mouth,

speaking up for herself

like she had just read

a self-help book off the shelf.”

But then some will say,

“the last thing that I heard

about her was that she recently

stepped away from everything

and became a recluse.”

I do not know how

that is going to work for me.

People are meant to be social.

But I will be back

out of the woodwork soon.

I never stay quiet for too long.

My guess is that soon

I will become more vocal.

Until then, I will enjoy

being a recluse.

That is my nature.

If he is going to hate me,

then I will just

see him later.

I will shut it all down

and just say,

“Starting today,

I will just be a recluse.”

Until all of that pent up energy

needs to be let loose

then I will show up

on the scene

seeming somewhat serene.

Some will ask me

Where have you been?

I will say, ‘have ya’ll missed me?’

They will think,

this lady is peculiar.

I will be ready to dance

at a dance party,

saying, ‘This song is my jam!’

They will think, “was her being a recluse

all a sham?”

They will say,

“There she is dancing.

I thought she was so reserved.”

He will be there and he will say,

“No, that is just what you had observed.

I know a different side of her

and there it is now.

Wow.

She is quite an enigma,

dancing indeed.

She got over being a recluse

with great speed.”