a piece of wood holding up a table
the sand in between my toes

an ornament on a Christmas tree
a leaf flying to the earth

poster board as a drippy paint brush makes the first stroke
junk sold at a yard sale

an abandoned car in a lot
colors in a rainbow translated into art

Father’s death and
fights with my siblings

Lookin’ at a picture where he still had eight years
And a photo of you when you considered me friend

The significance, swollen like a baseball, stuck in my throat
     it all matters to me yet I’m the only one.

Left feeling like I barely matter to anyone.


8 thoughts on “matter

  1. Ah you do matter Cathy.

    Don’t go letting people tell you differently.
    In particular don’t let yourself tell you differently!!!

    Terrific poem too – really captures the mood you are portraying with your words

    (((Big Irish Hug)))


    • I’m so disappointed in people. They drive me mad. The more determined they are to make me insignificant the more driven I become to exert myself on them and make them notice. Thank you for the hug and the praise.


  2. Well you matter to me, and a few others I’ll bet. A wonderfully open poem, but I am sorry that you had to write it dear Cathy. Just remember they are the DICKHEADS !!! And keep smiling…

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